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#this meme hits a little differently now
pure · 5 months
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It didn’t take a whole genocide for me to realize the USA has never been the good guy and will never be the good guy and everyone in its borders are all passively complicit in global warmongering by doing nothing and we are all victims of state-sponsored gaslighting.
When I was 18 years old i wanted the chance to re-elect the first black president. by this time, i was already a regular tumblr lurker. like i’ve stated many times before, i was here to witness social justice adjacent politics on the internet be born. tumblr is where it all started and every conversation you see elsewhere finds its origins on here. it’s funny looking back on it if you know how unhinged these communities were, but i’m grateful for the experience lol.
on tumblr, there was a group of anti-imperialists who were not explicitly marxist or anything, but they basically pointed out all the international devilry the USA has been responsible for under the previous two administrations, both democrat and conservative. these posters were from african countries, middle eastern countries, and south asia. of course, obama’s drone strikes was a hot button issue on here, where black american anti-racists clashed with the anti-imperialists because they didn’t wanna feel bad for rallying behind an evil man based on identity politics. as a black american myself, i was uncomfortable and felt some type of way, but hey, right is right. the anti-imperialists were right. i just silently watched these debates explode every time, looking at both sides. the anti-racists had to concede that, yes, drone strikes are bad, and those who authorize drone strikes are bad.
so when obama’s re-election comes up, i’m like, surely he knows the drone strikes are bad. because we all know drone strikes are bad now. even cornel west, a high profile figure, said obama was wrong! there are so many articles in mainstream newspapers that say drone strikes are bad now! he will stop the drone strikes this time!
so, i voted for obama, with the stupidly innocent and stupidly naive confidence that we as a people could “hold him accountable.” sound familiar? liberals who are stuck in the matrix still think this.
i avidly watched his inauguration. even held up the black power fist as i watched him walk down the aisle to give his speech. it ended. i logged on tumblr to watch the memes, the celebration, the happiness.
then, i saw someone post an article.
Barack Obama authorizes a drone strike on Yemen hours after inauguration.
everything just kinda broke inside of me. imagine the coolest shonen anime character you know transforming to their next form and all the buildings are crumbling around their aura and the onlookers look in amazement and horror. that’s what happened in my little brain.
the horrors of the realization hit me like an atom bomb, i’m being lied to, everything is a lie, what else have i been lied to about? the united states has been lying. the cool kids call this “coping.”
that was the day i became an anti-imperialist. January 22nd, 2013. that was the day i understood democrats and conservatives are simply performing being opposed to each other to keep the masses entertained and distracted. i broke out of the matrix, as the cool online kids say.
i floundered around being different versions of a lefty-oriented liberal for maybe a year. i called myself an “anarcho-socialist” which is just a fancy way of saying you’re a liberal who doesn’t support democrats.
Learning about palestine in 2014 made me a communist. i felt comfortable abandoning every lie and delusion i still held onto about america’s greatness, about capitalism, about voting, etc. nothing about it is redeemable. this country has a demonic level of bloodlust, and will throw its own citizens in the wood chipper to satiate and enforce it. those still stuck in the whole two-party circus act rightfully see me as inconvenient. i’m what they both call a filthy “tankie,” as the cool kids say. and, surprisingly enough, i’ve never felt more at peace. i have an amazing amount of clarity about where i live, now. nothing the U.S. and its allies do surprise me.
if you made it to the end of my rambling kudos to you lol now i have to get ready to clock in and keep the wheels turning.
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humansofnewyork · 10 months
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“The school wanted to create some new after-school programs. I’d run track in high school. Was I good? No. But I ran. So I volunteered to create the track program. The minimum to form a team is eight girls. Luckily I’m a cool teacher. I’m not rushing them to be grown. And I know the memes. So I had some girls who signed up just to be around me. In the end I found my eight. Nobody had any track experience. But these girls had playground reputations; they were fast. We just needed to build up our endurance. At our first practice we ran around the track one time, just to see how we were feeling. I ran out front to show them how it’s done. At one point I turn around, I got girls walking, I got girls stopping. My goal was just to finish the season. I wanted them to learn commitment. So when they grow up they can determine their own way without somebody pushing them. We were a little nervous on the morning of our first meet. Some of us were panicky. Some of us were crying. I told them: We don’t need any MVPs. We don’t need any Rookies of The Year. Just don't stop running. No matter what, just don't stop running.’  All of them raced in different heats. Then the scores started coming in; it was like: ‘Whoa. What’s up. We winning this?’ A lot of the girls placed. Our captain Jaziah was second out of 24 girls. That was the day we became a team. I started buying Gatorade. We chose a team name. Every time I gave a suggestion, they’d be like: ‘That’s corny. That’s corny.’ They’re in that phase of like, they hate everything. But when we got to ‘Baby Got Track,’ that hit. BGT, baby. BGT. Now before every meet we do our BGT chant to give us a little bit of that braggadocious energy. These girls are committed. During the 7th grade trip to the Poconos, the BGT girls were in my cabin. We woke up an hour early, ate breakfast, brushed our teeth, then we ran track. Tomorrow is the championship. We know that we can do it and we’re gonna show that we can do it. But no matter what happens, these girls are already leaders in the middle school. Our principal has noticed the results. We’re getting brand new jerseys. And next year we’re going to have an indoor track team too.”
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andypantsx3 · 9 months
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all in a day's quirk | sero hanta
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pairing: Sero Hanta / Fem Reader
length: 5.3k
summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!”
tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters
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It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.
Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.
Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.
“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”
She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.
You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.
Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.
You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”
Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.
“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”
Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”
You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.
“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”
“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.
Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.
As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.
And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.
He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.
So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.
It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.
But it was cool.
You knew how to play it cool.
Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.
And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.
You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.
He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.
“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”
Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.
“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”
You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.
His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.
Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”
Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.
You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”
Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.
Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”
He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.
“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.
Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”
“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”
Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”
You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”
Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.
He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”
Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”
You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”
His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”
Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”
Mari nodded dumbly.
You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.
It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.
You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.
“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”
You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.
You did not need to know.
“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”
Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”
You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”
You did. You did need to be so underhanded.
Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.
You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”
She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.
Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”
You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”
The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”
“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”
Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”
You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”
The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.
She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.
Finally, the device in the medic’s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”
You blinked, mystified. A what?
Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.
The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”
Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.
No.
Oh fuck no.
If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…
That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—
“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”
You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.
How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.
And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?
And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.
You could die of mortification.
You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.
God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?
But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.
Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”
The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.
You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.
“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”
Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.
“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.
You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.
You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.
Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.
His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.
“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”
“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.
To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.
“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”
Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.
“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”
Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.
“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.
You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”
Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.
But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”
You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”
Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”
Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.
“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.
Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.
A shiver prickled up your spine.
“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”
Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”
It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”
Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.
It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.
A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.
He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.
Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.
“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.
“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.
“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.
You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.
Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.
“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.
His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”
The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.
You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.
“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.
“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.
Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.
“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.
He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.
Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.
Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.
You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.
“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”
He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.
It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.
You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.
He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.
“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”
You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.
“Hanta—I’m going to—!”
“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.
“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.
You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”
Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.
“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.
He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”
You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”
His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.
You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”
“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.
“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”
Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.
He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”
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lair-of-asmodeus · 9 months
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Imagining...
Imagining General!Lilia in his glory days...
Him fucking you so slow that your body spasms in every move of his hips. Making you have multiple orgasms before he truly starts to fuck you.
Your armors are literally torn to the side, your bare skins exposed to the outside. You can feel the breeze on your body.
Though, it doesn’t matter. You two are sweaty as heck.
It’s tantalizing how he manages to hit your core and make your body twitch, how he knows all the spots in your body that will arouse you more, how he feels inside your pretty hole.
He bites your neck as he pushes his hips inside you again. You feel like cumming, once more, and your insides end up painting him with your juices.
He pinches your nipples as he slowly pulls his hips, muttering something you cannot understand. His cock twitches inside you.
He licks the shell of your ear, causing you to tighten around him.
“Lilia...” You speak up, earning a small groan coming from the fae general.
“Quiet down, you utter fool...” He mutters angrily, “Someone will hear us.”
And he smacks your ass, then squeezes it right after.
You cover your mouth again, but your groans can be heard. You internally thank the Gods above that you two are in a different part of the forest, otherwise someone would hear you. But even so, he orders you to be quiet in case someone happens to pass by and witness you two indulge in sin like this.
He lets go of one of your nipples and that hand goes to caress your genitalia.
“Cum for me, you little slut...” He rasps out and smacks your ass, “...with such watchful eyes that are on me, this is the fitting punishment for the likes of you..!”
And your body spasms once again, cumming once more. He stops moving and he watched your aroused form tremble with a toothy grin.
“Like that...” He smirks, “What a wonderful slut you are, doing as I say. Oh, if only my soldiers were just as obedient as you right now~”
You look back at him,
“...General... Lilia...” You whisper, “...please... just fuck me already..~”
He raises an eyebrow, “My~ How demanding you are, asking for something like this from your general~”
You bite your lips and look at him seductively, trying to tempt him. He just laughs and says,
“...Kufufu~ You have endured the punishment long enough, I might as well reward you for being so patient~♡”
...And starts to RAM HIS FUCKING COCK INTO YOUR HELPLESS HOLE!
You nearly lose your composure and give in, but you cover your mouth at the last second.
“Liliaaaa..!!” You gasp as he smacks your ass once again, “...Oh... Oh gosh..!”
“It is General Lilia for you, (Name)..!” He smacks your ass once again as he leans down and bites your neck.
His cock feels hard inside you. You can feel it twitching while hitting the good spots.
He pulls you by the hair and makes you look at him.
“You are so fucking cute... But are you worthy of receiving my seed~?”
You nod almost immediately and eagerly. He bites your neck hard enough to draw blood and holds still while thrusting inside. You feel the pain, but it makes you feel more aroused than before.
“LILIA..!!” You scream his name as you reach your peak again, but it doesn’t stop him. His cock just twitches more and more until he hits your core once more, hard, and you feel something warm pouring inside.
“ARGH..!!! NNGH!!”
Your mouth opens to scream, but it comes out like a quiet whimper. His seed keeps pouring inside you while your walls suck him in.
You momentarily collapse as you two pant and you feel the general pull out. As you two lay on the grass, you look at him. He looks back at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes.
“Who said I am done with you~?”
And with that, he lays you on your back and spreads your legs which causes his seed inside you to spill a bit to the ground.
And with that, he fucks you again...
(inserting to be continued meme)
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adams-angels · 2 months
Text
Talk to me
Adam X f!reader
🎸I hope I do you all justice. Don't be mad if this isn't very good. I generally am not very good!🎶
💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖
Smut below. Minors dni thx
This isn't the first time you and Adam argued. It sure as hell won't be the last but today was a little different.
It's started off fine. You were at Adams apartment for the weekend. You made him breakfast, he showered you in kissed, shared a bit of banter... And that's where it went wrong. You said something which made Adam say something unexpected and worse. So an argument ensured. It ended when Adam had been called into work.
The last thing you said was "fine, I won't say anything ever again." It was petty! You were being petty. It's not like you hadn't said it before but you always did speak again, of course you did! But no. Today was different. You were keeping to your word.
Adam got ready to leave. "Okay. I'm going now." You looked up and nodded. Not even a kiss goodbye was had. He left the apartment scowling while you stayed up and sulked.
As the day went on her texted you. "Ugh, work is so dumb. Idk y they even wanted me in 🙄" you picked up your phone and read it. You made sure to read it. So he would see that you saw it. Petty.
Now you know Adam. You know Adam needs attention 24/7. Even if you're not together you need to text him back. You need to make sure he knows you're still there. You're still his.
So of course he saw the read receipt. He knows you have your phone in your hand. "What are you ignoring me?" Read. "Don't be so pathetic." Read. "Why are you doing this?" Read. "whatever! You think I care?! I'm FUCKING ADAM! I'M THE FUCKING DICK MASTER! I DON'T NEED YOU!" Read. "ANSWER ME?!" Read. "Haha, check out this meme." Read. "Please say something." Read.
You had him reeling. His trust issues taking over his mind. What if you've left him? What if fucking Lucifer's got his tiny ass claws into you?! "NO!" His wings flare, he charges towards the nearest window and takes flight. He can't stand you ignoring him. He can't stand the thought of you leaving him.
He lands on his apartments balcony, you're not in the livingroom. His heart pounds in his chest. Opening the sliding door he enters his apartment. A very broken "hello?" Escapes his lips. No response. The silence is too much.
He explores his apartment, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. "Y/N?" He heads towards his bedroom and there you are. Lying in bed. You're not asleep, you're on your phone, still ignoring him. You could of swore you heard a sigh of relief. It doesn't take long before he's back to his arrogant self. "What up sugartits? Still not talking?" That cocky smirk fills his mask.
He hops into bed next to you. You glance up at him, that stupid smile. "What? I didn't do anything, babe. C'mon, why don't you just say something?" You respond with a glare. He sits up, his smile waivered slightly at your resistance. He brings himself close to your ear, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I know how to get you to talk."
His hand slides down your arm, to your waist then your thighs. You know where this is going. With no resistance from you he moves one of your legs, spreading them. His fingers trace along your pantie line, just to tease you. You can feel your face flushing. "You're too cute, babes." He muttered, causing you to look up at him. As soon as your eyes locked with his, he moved your underwear to the side. Sliding a finger between your folds. He can see you holding back a whimper. "Wow, you're already soaked? Thinking about my cock all day, huh? Of course you were."
He continued sliding a finger between you, gently hitting your clit cause you to twitch. But still no sounds from you. He frowns slightly. "Why don't you tell me how much you want it, Gorgeous." It was so hard not to break. How much your wanted to tell him you wanted him. But no. Then he would of won. He always wins! You hold strong. "Fine." He grunts as he gets up. He crawls between your legs whipping off her robe revealing his, always surprising, massive cock. Throbbing with anticipation.
"I'm gonna make you beg." He grumbled. He wasn't happy you were still not saying anything. At this point he missed your voice. He missed your laugh. Your tuts. Your groans. Anything. Any noise! He wanted you do make a single sound. You watched as he positioned himself and got ready for him to thrust into you. He grabbed his member and lined up with your entrance and stopped. You looked up at him confused. That smirk was back.
He began jerking him against your aching cunt. His tip brushing against your clit you can't help but whimper. You quickly cover your mouth. "What was that babe? You want me to fuck you?" He asked with that shit eating grin. You nod, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Use your words, baby." You furrowed your brow, positioning your feet you buck your hips to try and get him inside of you but he's too smart for that, pulling himself away. "Nuh-uh. Words, y/n. Use them." He purred, teasing you. He moved back, continuing rubbing himself off on you.
You whined in frustration and desperation. "Fuck 'm getting close, babe." Your eyes widen. No way was he close, but his brow twitched which told you he wasn't lying. He was going to cum soon. "Fuck me Adam! Please fuck me! I need you!" You begged. "ah, you want me now?" "Yes, please. Please Adam?" It didn't take him long before he was inside you. Feeling your walls clenched around his thick member. You moan in ecstasy. Adam, gripping your waist, pulling you as close as he can so he can get deep inside you. "Fuckin' feel so good~ such a good girl." He grunted, pounding into you.
It's hard to read his true expression with that damn mask on, uou managed to get your fingers under the chin of his mask and pull it off. You can see his flustered face, how desperate and needy his eyes are. "Sso p-pretty anh~!" "Shut up.." he burrows his head in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, small whimpers escape his lips as moans roar out from yourself.
"Fuck, y/n-!" His arms wrap themselves around your waist as he holds you down and close. Filling you with his seed. His head still pressed against the nook of your neck. "'m sorry..." He whispered into your skin. Your arms slid round to his back, gently running your fingers up and down his back. "Please don't ignore me again." He mumbled. "I won't. I'm sorry." You reply, holding each other close.
~⁠♡✧⁠。 I really hope you enjoyed this one shot. It was fun to write! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! 。✧⁠♡~⁠
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prismarts333 · 5 months
Text
Why Rayfrog works so well
DISCLAIMER: I will spoil the entire of the Netflix adult series "Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix."
Tw// torture, drug use, sexual themes, graphic violence, Angst, and fascism
Rayfrog is a fascinating ship for me personally and one that I and many other Rayman and Laserhawk fans have gravitated towards. Two characters represent two very different IPs, both aesthetically and thematically. However, when framed in the context of a story that uses cyberpunk as a framework to craft a narrative of revolution to discover a crack ship with legitimacy and the tragedies they might overcome if season two is ever greenlit.
If you're reading this post, you've most likely watched all 6 episodes of captain laserhawk on Netflix. (if not, please watch it! It is so good, and I want season two in my VEINS)
Let me just get this out of the way: despite all the edgy memes about sushi on anthro cows and snorting cocaine and promotional trailers depicting him as a villain due to not having a game in over 10 years, this Rayman is NOT the Rayman from the games. This AU version of Rayman makes sense as most Rayman fans already know what the character is like, so seeing him in an assumed villain role was the perfect hook for the advertising.
In this universe, Rayman was a celebrity and mascot for Eden. Using a nonhuman and nonhybrid to be the face of Eden, they can use Rayman without fearing immediate backlash. And even if they did, they can silence the ones that do. They can do all that while also lying to Rayman about the actual info, and they also have the added benefit of Rayman believing it.
Which makes his realization of all the false propaganda he was spewing hit harder because Rayman, in the games, would always protect the little guy, and now he was suppressing them with a smile on his face. And he learned all of this from a hacked message telling him to seek a frog for the truth.
And that frog just so happens to be declared a terrorist by the same company that lied to him for who knows how long.
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Meet bullfrog! Despite him being an original character based on Assassin's Creed rather than his role being taken up by one of the Assassins in the series (like the Assassin he's based on), Ezio. It makes his rise to fan fave all the more incredible. The team also saw this potential since he had a whole trailer dedicated to him before the show came out. And it's not hard to see the appeal. He's the most emotionally mature character in the series. Has some of the best moments in the show, gets the job done, and is voiced by the creative director Balak. Some argue he and Rayman carried the show.
The way Bullfrog tells Rayman the truth also adds to his character as well as Rayman. He's not angry at him; he doesn't even yell at him. He even gives him juice and tells him the truth. He reminds him about how he became Eden's poster boy. He tells him that he was right for being upset, and he got silenced for it by the people he was working for. And even got Rayman to open up about his backstory. And most importantly, he showed him the horrors of Eden's propaganda and how Rayman was advertising a fascist regime. That was the moment Rayman realized how bad he messed up. However, the damage was already done he sat by and let an entire system ruin the lives of so many even the frog that told him everything.
So what does Rayman do? well for a lack of better terms, he became Rayman again but things are so much different now.
With a new resolve, he went directly to the higher-ups to ensure that Bullfrog wasn't executed permanently even though, as bullfrog says in episode 3,
"Be wary of the path to vengeance. That tree will bear bitter fruit"...
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the season ends with them alive but their fates are unknown at least for now...
With all that stated, let's discuss why people want Rayman and an Assassin Creed frog to smooch each other.
Combine the fact that both of these characters are nonhuman with the fact that they have the best voice performances of the whole show, the implied character importance and arcs for both of these characters, and the fact that they both have the potential for concern and chemistry (I mean look at these shots after Rayman got bodied by a xenophobe).
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Shows the lengths to which the show wants these characters to be happy together, but like the other prominent gay couple in the show, Dolph and Alex, I fear they're trials both must overcome if they want to be together. This includes but is not limited to Rayman coming to terms with being an accomplice to a capitalist hellscape company, the bomb that's still in Bullfrog's head, (Maybe some internalized homophobia for Rayman if the writers want to get spicy), bullfrog's past that hasn't been fully revealed yet, the fact that the aesthetic of this whole show is cyberpunk a genre of storytelling that NEVER has a happy ending for anyone, bullfrog's code of honor, what happened to globox and rayman’s other friends, and EVERYTHING WITH UNIVERSE X. Fans latch on to those theories like a moth to a flame for hurt comfort and fluff fics so much potential to be wholesome and/or tragic depending on what the writers want to do in season two (if it gets greenlit).
You also have to take into account the paratextual context of Rayman ( a dead IP that only recently got closure from the Rabbids that buried him back in the 2000s in the form of DLC) and an assassins Creed character ( a franchise that's currently running and returning back from its roots from what I've heard) being in the same room talking about both of them are used and even abused by Eden (Ubisoft). That incentivizes fans to write complex fics and theories on these two.
In conclusion, this pair not only has the potential to be a healthier ship compared to Dolph and Alex or even be darker and more tragic than that. And this ship has the added benefit of being a commentary on classism, IP usage, vengeance, and revolution.
TDLR: PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW. I NEED SEASON TWO, I NEED CLOSURE, AND I WORKED TOO HARD ON THIS POST FOR THIS SHOW TO BE CANNED."
UPDATE: Apparently, the original Raymon transformation clip got taken off YouTube, so I decided to clip the scene from a compilation video.
Here's the original link
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strwbrryeyes · 2 months
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𓆩♡𓆪 kenma as a best friend
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⟡ cw: fluff, friends to lovers, little video game rage, terrible suggestive pick up line, awkward everything tbh, lmk if i missed anything else.
⟡ a/n: i had to make this slightly awkward and cringe i couldn't help it. also my bf actually said that pickup line one time while playing bedwars. i threw a fireball at him after bc it was bad.
⟡ best friend series: lev, yaku, kuroo || masterlist
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best friend kenma who you met when he bumped into you while playing on his portable gaming device.
best friend kenma who felt bad but didn't know how to apologize properly because he was bad with people.
best friend kenma who you just giggled at because it was funny watching him try. you accepted his 'apology'.
best friend kenma who you got closer to when you ran into him again outside the volleyball gym, this time he was in his practice attire and you poked fun at him for actually being athletic.
best friend kenma who glared at you playfully as you teased him when kuroo came out from the gym to tell him to hurry up and get inside.
best friend kenma who hit kuroo when he saw you and immediately started hitting on you. "sorry, didn't know you called dibs" kuroo said and soon got hit again with kenma saying you weren't dating and you just responded with "yeah! we're only besties now!" which kenma cringed to.
best friend kenma who didn't really expect you to actually come up to him and talk but didn't complain because he actually liked having you around. you balanced him out with your outgoing personality.
best friend kenma who let you play on his gaming device whenever you would stop by to watch practice so you wouldn't get too bored while waiting for him.
best friend kenma who was in shock when practice was finished and saw that you had beaten the final boss of the game he's been trying kill for the past week and a half.
best friend kenma who called you a closeted nerd when he tried prying information out of you because there's no way it was just a 'fluke' like you said it was.
best friend kenma who went over to your house when you finally and gave in and admitted that you were a video game fanatic and told him that you had a pretty extensive collection of consoles and video games.
best friend kenma who would now come to your house every day he didn't have practice to play games with you.
best friend kenma who you always fought with over supersmash bros. and mario kart. you guys got really into it one time and didnt talk for a week before kuroo and yaku both lectured you about your rage issues.
best friend kenma who you went to the same college as and got a shared apartment because neither of you wanted to deal with roommates you didn't know.
best friend kenma who started streaming his gameplay since he had more time now since he didn't play volleyball anymore. he became popular relatively quick.
best friend kenma who invited you to play games with him on stream, mostly overwatch and minecraft. you became a fan favorite but you were made a meme when you tried valorant for the first time and failed.
best friend kenma who you made a vlog/irl youtube channel with where you guys would try different challenges.
best friend kenma who actually really disliked doing in person challenges but only did them because it made you happy.
best friend kenma who embarrassed himself during a cooking livestream when you were trying to teach him how to make apple pie from scratch.
best friend kenma who said he'd never do another cooking video with you again because he will never recover from it. he did another cooking livestream two weeks later and redeemed himself when he made a near perfect omurice.
best friend kenma who realized his feelings for you when you ate the omurice and saw your eyes light up and practically inhaled the rest of it. you looked like a goof but he found it adorable.
best friend kenma who while streaming minecraft bedwars came up with a bad pickup line when you said "i'll get bed defense" to which he responded with "you can come defend my bed" which caused you to freeze up, get distracted, and die when someone came up behind you, broke the bed, and killed you.
best friend kenma who actually didn't realize what he said until you died and turned to look at the livestream chat which was going lightning fast.
best friend kenma who ended the stream immediately after he realized what happened and ran to your room to apologize but only saw you curled up in a ball in your chair.
best friend kenma who apologized (terribly, like always) and accidentally blurted out that he loved you so that's why he subconsciously said what he said.
best friend kenma who curled up into a ball as well when he again realized what he said.
best friend kenma who was surprised when you finally broke the silence when you said you loved him back and asked if he wanted to be your boyfriend. he said yes obviously.
best friend kenma who is now boyfriend kenma who started the stream again an hour later like nothing happened but ended the stream by saying "okay gotta go cuddle with yn now".
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literally can't stop thing about highschoolsweetheart!au where darling is 24/7 clinging onto a slightly annoyed/frustrated könig's arm, autistically chatting his ear off about random things like cute cat videos that she saw, dinosaurs or art, gushing about how much she loves him, how utterly handsome he's looking and that they're absolutely meant to be!! 🥺 always nuzzling him and pressing sweet kisses to his face.
until... maybe he snaps and shuts her up :// not in a nice way. maybe i'm projecting here, but i've been silenced before and it did nasty things to me. (bit of advice for unknowing peeps, don't make autistic people stop rambling, if you can help it. let them down gently if you must 💌)
back to our sheep... she suddenly shuts in. doesn't chat as much as before, slowly sticking to only utilitarian stuff. avoids his gaze oftenly, gradually starting to keep her distance, stops initiating affectionate things. she still absolutely adores him, but she's hurt, heart constricting in her chest. thinks she's doing him a service by listening to his 'request' at shutting the hell up, thinking she's making him happier. she's still itching to babble, making an active effort at stoping herself from going back to her rambling habits.
how would könig feel? react?
imagine what would it be like, if after some time of this distance, at a social gathering or something, he sees a man approaching her. another MAN!! how is this possible?? and he's... he's asking her about things? looking interested in her talk, eyeing her up and down??
would you do me the honour of tormenting this poor man for me? :33
Her ramblings were cute at first, then they started to go in one ear and out the other. König has a budding tinnitus from work and only wants to rest, but she skitters to him like a lovesick cat, climbs into his lap, and starts to talk his ear off about attachment styles and some pop psychology.
The enthusiasm in her eyes is what bothers him the most – he’s hit with envy, bright hot and red, because he has no time for intellectual interests these days. There's nothing but gun oil and gym to keep him busy. He was supposed to become either a philosopher or a fighter, but since they said philosophers can’t get pussy, he chose the other option (and still got little to no pussy), sad wanker as he was back then.
He either doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about or, he would want to discuss with her about the subjects she’s into, so much in fact that it would soon become an autistic competition of its own. But the deeply ingrained memory of being called a scrawny nerd is keeping his mouth shut even now, when he’s approaching his mid-thirties.
So he tells her she should read an actual book about the subject and stop filling her head with nonsense layman theories.
It hurts; it fucking burns, the mute, helpless stare she shoots at him. She scoots away, sorely upset, and won’t come back to him before the evening fall.
There's no cute noises and kisses peppered all over his face, no dangling from his neck and prattling away about the differences between C. S. Lewis and Tolkien; no videos where a cat tries to fish the last pringles with its paw or memes that remind her of him. There's just a broken girl and a knife in his heart, but he’s too ashamed and proud to apologize.
And so she comes back to him when he won't go to her, the deep yearning always overthrowing her pride. It feeds his self loath by gallons: she's better than him, always has been.
She hugs his middle when they lie down to sleep, forehead pressed against his upper back. She’s too small to reach the back of his neck, but she won’t wriggle upwards like an adorable little worm to place a kiss there like she used to. Just falls asleep with a sigh, holding him tight.
His sleep arrives only after hours have passed, and the knife inside his heart has finally done its duty and euthanized the whole organ.
They never talk about it: but she prattles far less nonsense to him now. He nearly breaks the silence one day and asks her about the Myers Pigs test or whatever it was called, see if she would crack open from her shell and laugh. He could coax her to tell him what her newest interest is nowadays, what makes her eyes bright and shiny when he’s away. But he’s too fucking ashamed, too goddamm proud to tell her that she’s annoyingly cute when she talks so much and that he fucking loves her for that. That she’s the silliest girl he’s ever met and if he had a hat, he would take it off every time she wanted to share another monologue.
If he had the balls, he would ask if she had all this madness inside her when they were kids but never had the courage to spill it out… If he's the only person she has allowed to see this side of her without fear.
...
He returns to the party after having a smoke – a bad habit everytime he knows he's about to down a few beers – only to see she’s engaged in a heated conversation with some other guy.
Or, the guy is asking questions, while his girl is about to burst out of her dress from the eagerness to tell him everything about some new hyperfixation of hers. Something she hasn’t really shared with him; not anymore...
The knife is still in his heart, it seems, because it twists. Violently.
He looks for a weapon to defend himself: an empty beer bottle, a knife on the table, an untended umbrella by the door; his fists, ungloved. It’s just a routine check, a simple habit that was hammered in his system years ago, and of course this is not the time or the place for violence. He just… fantasizes about stabbing that guy in the liver with some blunt cutlery, pounding his ribs to pieces until his knuckles bleed with jealousy. He even fantasizes her screams when she sees what kind of a man he really is: a weak wanker who turned into a pitiful beast of a man.
These flashes take only a second or two, then he squares his shoulders and goes to get his girl back.
“How about we dance,” he offers his hand to her, palm up like the other guy was made of air – or not even that.
Her eyes light up with surprise, pure, undiluted hope, her interest in her chat companion now completely gone.
“You... You want to dance?”
His lips compress into a thin line, his nostrils flaring from the need to either claim her right on this floor or turn and beat the competing dick beside him into a pulp.
Then her hand finds his, her soft little smile pulls him back, her eyes now shining to him and only him.
It’s a slow one, the song, and he only notices it when she lifts her hands and cups the back of his neck. Tingles shoot down his spine and send a curious little twitch down his dick – even his testes pull up a notch. They’ve fucked a thousand times, and still, she has this effect on him... All she needs to do is smile and touch his neck, and his body answers; he’s hers.
“Does this mean you like me…?” She asks with a playful smile when his hands come to naturally claim her waist.
“...What?”
“You saw me with that guy and came to whisk me away.”
He tries to avoid her stare, fakes to steal a glimpse at the other pairs dancing, but it’s challenging when she looks at him like… like that.
“He was drooling all over you back there,” he mutters.
“...Oh? So you came to save me?”
“You have difficulty saying no.”
She's relaxed, while he's stiff, the adrenaline leaving him slowly and with a rising boner. It doesn't help that she's drawing little circles on his skin, right there where it tickles and sends more pulls down his cock.
He tries to breathe deep and slow, but it doesn’t really work much. There are times when he gets a hard-on from her playing with his hair or brushing a set of fingertips across his nipple, and then there are times when he really wishes she wouldn’t do shit like this. Not when they’re at a party and he almost had a temper tantrum in front of everyone.
“König… You never dance,” she says with a weighted stare. He answers it with a heavy glare of his own, eyes that should tell her enough about his true feelings for her.
There’s a thin line between love and hate, but never has he felt this undeniable truth as acutely as he has with her...
“If you don’t stop with the tickling I’m going to have to take you upstairs for a fuck.”
Her tiny little fingers stop immediately, but her eyes shine brighter than ever before. From shock, love, or awe, who knows. Then she picks up that annoying habit again, a bit too keenly to convey any kind of actual fear.
“You’re begging for it, aren’t you...?” He comments with genuine contempt.
“...Yes?” She answers with a breath of a smile, pure love in her stare.
He grunts as if tired, then scoops her up, right there on the dance floor and takes her upstairs when everyone can see.
“You like me. Admit it,” she babbles when he carries her inside some guest bedroom and kicks the door shut, with her snug and smiling in his arms.
“Yes, yes. You can tell me all about everything when I’m done with you.”
“All about everything?” She giggles as he throws her on the bed and starts to take off his shirt. Her eyes shoot to his pecs, then to his fingers when he unzips his pants. There's no lie, no deceit in that stare, just adoration and want.
“First you have to be quiet. Think you can manage that?”
She opens her pink little mouth, then shuts it, starts to nod like a broken doll.
When he eventually slides in, the poor doll whimpers, just like he thought.
"Hush," he gruffs, but doesn't cover her mouth.
He can have a little taste, a sip, a treat... Because the knife in his heart stops rattling only when he makes love to her – he does that often, even if he calls it 'fucking' in his mind.
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omgthatdress · 8 months
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Barbie made her debut in 1959. The way she was sold then is a little different than the way she's sold now. These days, individual Barbies come with their own unique looks & usually some kind of unique function or accessories. You can buy clothes separately, but those looks are still secondary to the expectation of buying a lot of Barbies. Back in the day, you bought the one Barbie and then bought her clothes separately. This is why back then Barbie came with a bunch of friends and always came wearing a swimsuit.
The oft-memed origin story for the classic Barbie is that she was modeled on a German sex doll named Lili, which is only partially true. In the 50s, most dolls available for girls were baby dolls that primed girls for being a wife and mother. Fashion dolls were a thing but they were generally more reserved for adults.
Ruth Handler, who co-founded Mattel with her husband and served as its president from 1945-1973 (#girlboss much?), got the idea of making an adult doll for girls when she'd see her daughters playing with paper dolls. Instead of playing with babies, they chose teen-aged and adult paper dolls and played fantasized versions of adulthood. Then, on a trip to Germany, Ruth saw a Lili doll in a store, and asked her daughters what they'd think of playing with a doll like that. Apparently, they liked the idea.
Lili the doll wasn't an inflatable fuck doll. She was based on a popular comic strip character Lili created by Reinhard Beuthien and published in the Hamburg-based Bild Zeitung. Lili was a buxom gold-digger seducing her way through the wealthy men of post-war West Germany.
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The comic was definitely adult-oriented, and the doll it created was a popular bachelor party gag gift.
The introduction of a doll with breasts did cause *some* controversy, but it was more pearl-clutching rather than tremendous cultural outrage. Barbie was actually an immediate hit. She fit in very well to late 50s ideals of femininity. I've heard it said before that parents liked her because she helped little girls get into the beauty, fashion, and level of grooming that she would need to catch a husband. IDK if that was intentional, but it seems to fit very well.
I don't want to get into whether or not Barbie is this huge feminist icon or not because, well, she's a toy. I think Ruth Handler was an incredibly smart businesswoman who saw a market demand and met it. Barbie is about the power of fantasy and imagination, and anything that people see in her are the things they want to see in her.
In her incredible multitude of careers, she also holds up an impossible and toxic standard of beauty. Mattel has always been very aware of Barbie's image. I'm pretty sure that the reason Mattel hated "Barbie Girl" so much wasn't because it was wink-wink sexual, but because it nailed the popular stereotype of the time that Barbie was this fake, plastic bimbo who was an unhealthy role model for girls (go listen to Aquarium, now!).
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The recent years of Barbie taking on a more empowering, feminist, and diverse lean is because Mattel is simply correcting course and keeping up with the times. Honestly, they've done a very good job of it, but I'm not going to kid myself into thinking they're doing anything other than maximizing profits.
I love me some Barbie but I was always an AG girl, ngl. However, I think Barbie and her cultural context are still incredibly fascinating and worth taking a look at.
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matrixbearer2024 · 1 month
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Karaoke Cacophony
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
A/N: This song is legitimately the reason why I ended up posting the poll that I did lmao- but if you check the lyric translations- it oddly fits the vibe for both Vox and Reader. Though it's only going to embarrass our resident TV man since our dear (Y/N) has absolutely no idea what the song actually means. Just that it sounds nice and it's something they heard over the radio back then when growing up. Vox has a built-in google translate thing so he can understand others better no matter what language, it just so happens that this hits him like a double-edged sword where he has no idea if he would've been better off not understanding the song and just appreciating the melody of your voice. BTW this interlude features an HC I have for Vox where he cooks sometimes because the systematic way it's done helps calm him down, it's inspired by something I read before but yeah- ALSO ALSO- some part kind of features reader being cracked out of their minds with pickup lines I pulled from one of @voxsremotec0ck's posts LMAO.
A/N: Also my cousin has had a HEAVY hand to play in this song choice, though her reasoning was mostly because of Angel's initial comment that watching Vox and Reader's interactions were like seeing a romcom plot unfold live. So why not go a little bit off tangent and relate them to a romantic fairytale? I also may have sorta kinda written a lot of this chapter while I myself was on a hyperactive streak because of some caffeine- Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and as always- Happy Reading!
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After a while and back and forth of those games, you and Vox eventually stopped joining in despite the others still continuing to play.
You and your partner in crime had become preoccupied with laughing at memes or poking fun at whatever stupid trend was currently a fad online.
You were currently leaning against the technology overlord while he had one arm around you, the other using to poke at your phone every now and again.
The two of you were practically cuddling at this point from how close you both were but neither noticed nor even seem to care.
"They have the tidepod challenge too? Geez, people are kind of-"
"Idiotic? Stupid? Batshit crazy?"
"Pretty much."
"This is hell dollface, I'm not sure why you expected any different."
You just casually shrugged in reply, soon laughing at a dumb video you found whilst scrolling.
Vox couldn't help but subtly stare at you, especially when you seemed to be so cheerful just messing around or doing whatever.
Seeing your smile always made his day just a little bit brighter.
"Hey Vox! Stop being absolutely whipped for a second and help me out over here!"
The overlord in question just sputtered in confusion at Lucifer's words.
He wasn't whipped!
He just- admired you a lot.
Even you had raised eyebrows at the odd word choice, whipped- wasn't exactly what you would use to describe your flatscreen companion.
Not when you kind of had an inkling to what it meant.
"What are you even doing??"
Vox called back, finally taking his eyes off you and your phone to just look over in the kitchen's general direction.
Lucifer did mention about making a snack earlier, but why would the king of hell need his help of all people??
What was he planning this time???
"Something! Just get over here!!"
You just gave your companion a shrug when he looked back to you, encouraging him to just go and get it over with.
Besides, you guys could always just continue doing this and messing around when he was finished with... whatever Lucifer needed him for.
Well, that was until your brain immediately stomped on the brakes when you looked at Vox again.
He'd undone his cuffs to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, revealing some... bare forearms.
Before he just nonchalantly stood up and walked off towards the kitchen when the king of hell called for him again.
He didn't seem to have noticed your shattered mental-
You had dropped your phone at that point, just blinking and spacing out like an idiot before Angel noticed.
"Woaaah, what happened to (Y/N)?"
"Huh, I didn't think we'd ever see them actually speechless."
"Oooh oooh! Does that mean (Y/N) likes bad boys?!"
You shook your head in an attempt to snap out of it but couldn't stop the blush from creeping up your neck.
Oh. My. God.
You were completely in the gutter now-
Similarly to Alastor, you noticed Vox was always wearing long-sleeves or an outfit that concealed any skin at all.
And while it left you wondering what he had to hide, that consequently would lead you to imagine how he'd look like without a shirt on.
Was he just a mess of wires or something?
Did he conceal so much because he was robotic to a degree?
You had no clue how Vox's biology even worked and you didn't know how to ask without sounding weird.
Not to mention how he's able to wear some kinds of shirts given his obnoxiously sized head-
It's just curiosity is all!
You could only slap Angel's hands away when he started cautiously poking you, and you were practically steaming out of your ears from embarrassment.
It wasn't the fact that your flatscreened friend seemed to show some skin that set you off-
It was the fact your brain somehow went autopilot and registered it as HOT.
You were sure Velvette had fashioned him the outfit so it didn't surprise you that Vox looked all dapper and smart.
Dare you even say the fucking TV looked handsome-
You just didn't think he could look any better.
Until he did that.
And consequently nuked the rest of your sanity with it.
"Yep, they're totally broken-"
"Angel shut up before I beat you to death with a pillow I swear to god-"
"Oh good, you're finally reacting toots."
You merely flipped him the bird and just hid your face in your other hand, why was everything in your body trying to go on overdrive?!
"What's got you all blushy anyway? It's like you've just watched a racy porno."
"What?! No! I just- you- I don't even fucking know-"
Angel was about to continue poking at you before Lucifer and Vox finally returned.
Both chatting amiably while holding what seems to be a plate or two of treats and snacks.
So that's where they both went-
And that was when the spider noticed your gaze practically zero in on your techno-centric friend.
Ha, friend-
Yeah nobody in the hotel with half a brain believed that for even a second-
Though there didn't seem to be any differences with Vox-
His outfit was still the same, just his sleeves were...
Oh.
OH.
"WOW TOOTS YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING PRUDE OH MY GOD-"
You just shrieked incoherently at Angel and started whacking him with a couch cushion while everyone else kind of just watched you both confused.
Not to mention that you were pretty much a tomato from how red you've become.
The arachnid couldn't stop himself from just devolving into a loud laughing fit.
You had completely lost it because of some forearms, he could only imagine what your reaction would be if a certain technology overlord decided to undo some shirt buttons.
You'd probably just die on the spot!
"Uh... what happened?"
"No idea, but it sure as hell is entertaining."
By the time you were able to relatively calm down, you were still red when Vox just sat down next to you again.
"Soooo, any reason for trying to murder Angel with a pillow?"
"None that concerns you."
"Oh come on, it's gotta be something crazy if you don't tell even me."
You just adamantly shake your head and refuse to say anything no matter what Vox tried.
It was kind of cute seeing you try so hard, despite the fact the overlord knew he could always just ask the others about it later.
He didn't think it was anything too big, after all you would embarrassed by a lot of random things.
So he didn't even bother guessing at this point.
"What did you and Lucifer make anyway?"
"Hm? Chocolate strawberries, do you want some?"
"Seriously? That's what he needed help with?"
"I'm just as confused as you are doll, anyway- open your mouth."
Vox just chuckles when you shyly follow his instructions, forcing himself to look away before grabbing one of the strawberries and placing it into your mouth.
He'd be lying if he said the way you looked didn't give him other ideas.
You seeming insanely kissable being just one of them.
While the overlord knew making the treat consumed more time than just going out and probably buying it-
Seeing your eyes sparkle when you bit down made him consider that it was a little more worth it to put in that extra homemade touch.
"Didn't pin you for a guy that could cook."
You remarked, taking the plate from him and just eagerly chowing down.
Vox just chuckled, watching you so happily munch away.
You were just really cute in your own little way, not that he would ever say so.
Especially when you seemed so pleased at just such a simple snack.
"I'm not surprised, I don't exactly... have that vibe? I can cook though, it's something I do on the off chance to calm down."
"And still you eat that McDonald's garbage-"
"It's not garbage! I'm just too busy to actually cook sometimes! Running a media empire isn't easy dollface."
"The next time you do cook, I wanna try your food."
"Hm? What makes you say that?"
"Dunno, just wanna try it."
The overlord simply raised an eyebrow at you, though he didn't seem to mind your words much.
And as you scarfed down on the strawberries, he noticed a smear of chocolate streaking across your cheek.
How it got there- Vox wasn't entirely sure.
Possibly from your enthusiastic eating but he didn't really care enough at the moment to find out.
"Wait, you've got some chocolate on your face."
You looked at your companion with wide eyes when he gingerly raised a hand to wipe at your face.
The way his gaze was both calm and focused at you made your heart skip a beat.
The plate of treats in front of you now mostly forgotten.
"There. Didn't think you'd be such a messy eater doll."
He didn't seem to notice your mind kind of stall, picking up a chocolate strawberry himself to eat it.
It was a little too sweet for his taste, which was odd considering his already innate knack for deserts.
You seemed to like it though, so he didn't say anything.
And that was when Vox also noticed your more than obvious staring.
You weren't even trying to hide it were you?
Admittedly, the overlord got a little embarrassed because of it.
"Take a picture darling, it'll last longer."
"Nah, I think I would much rather look at the real thing. A picture can only do so much."
You smirked when you saw his screen proceed to tinge pink, especially when you heard his fans kick to life.
He never could get the upper hand with you, which was hilariously cute in it's own way.
It didn't take long for you to eventually get used to Vox's charm over the while you've known him.
Even if at times it would strike you when you least expected it.
You simply went back to snacking contentedly.
After a short while, all the treats were gone and you were practically bouncing off the walls with energy.
So what did you do with that sugar rush?
Absolutely torment and flirt the life out of Vox.
Slamming pickup line after pickup line into his already preoccupied mind space.
Well it was preoccupied with you to begin with but let's not mention that-
"Hey Vox- Hey Vox- Hey Vox-"
"What is it dollface?"
"Do you have a bandaid?"
"No...? Why?"
"Because I think I scraped my knee falling for you!"
He buffered a little bit but just played off being flustered with a scoff.
The rest of the hotel crew were not so subtly watching all of this go down just waiting for your overlord friend to crack.
Angel and Husker already made bets on how fast he would go down glitching -
"That was horrible."
"Nah nah nah wait I got another one-"
The overlord didn't really mind it at first, aside from the fact he was a little surprised.
Until the point it got so stupidly suggestive and then he actually had trouble dealing with the provocative ideas he got from you.
"You know, I'm just gonna start calling you my big toe."
"Your... what??"
"My big toe, so I can bang you all over the place."
The overlord had to actually ignore the snickering and hushed laughter from your spectators, why were you doing this to him of all people?!
Though as horrible as the pickup lines were, Vox would be lying if he said they weren't hitting their mark.
He was just... a little better at hiding it.
And that wasn't even the end of your tomfoolery-
Actually far from it.
Vox made a mental note to watch out for your sugar rush episodes from this point onwards.
You weren't ever this bad from what he could remember either-
Well, you would just blitz through nearly everything during a hyperactive episode before the impending sugar crash.
But never tried to flirt the socks off him!
"Are you a fitted sheet?"
"A fitted sheet? What's that got to do with-"
"Cuz you're complicated as fuck but I still need you spread across my bed."
Vox stared at you wide-eyed for a whole ass second-
Before his screen predictably started showing errors and he glitched uncontrollably.
Angel just keeled over from laughter at that point when the overlord's face went absolutely haywire.
He didn't quite bluescreen, but his screen did buffer and spazz a whole lot for a minute or so.
To which you just celebrated and cheered.
"HELL YEAAAAH! I BROKE HIM IN FIVE FUCKING SECONDS!"
That just made your arachnid friend laugh even harder.
You were an unbridled chaotic ball of energy hyped up on sugar-
But Charlie- being Charlie-
Felt a little bad for Vox being the target of your madness- and stepped in and try to direct your hyperactivity elsewhere.
However, because she had done it on a whim- she actually had no ideas what to do with you.
So she just randomly suggested karaoke.
Which seemed to get your attention anyway.
When Vox finally came crashing back into reality, he was surprised to see both you and Lucifer just tormenting a very staticky and clearly very irritated Alastor.
"YOU'RE A LOOOOSER BAMBI- A LOOOOSER-"
What even was that song?
"Huh, you were out for a while."
"What- did I miss something?? What happened?"
"Your hyperactive lover just being a menace to Alastor, other than that nothing much."
"They're not my-"
"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that."
Vox doesn't even have the opportunity to fully retort before you suddenly ran over to him with a grin.
Apparently you noticed he was fine again-
This time he was just the slightest bit worried.
You were literally shaking from the sugar rush- oh goodness-
"Oh good you're awake! I wanted to show you something!"
Vox didn't have the option to refuse when you just dragged him over to the couch and plopped him down next to everyone else.
"Okay okay! There's this song I used to listen to because I loved the melody and how nice it sounded but I actually have no idea what it means because it's not in English and-"
Safe to say the overlord spaced out during your rambling, only picking up the important bits of your spiel.
Which TL;DR, was just that you had a song you wanted to sing but didn't actually understand.
He only snapped out of his trance when he finally heard your voice slow down to the soft piano melody.
Well, the words you were saying definitely weren't in English-
So Vox secretly decided to translate what you were saying.
Having the internet being an extension of his conscious mind was a little bit of advantage here.
Then he figured out what the lyrics were.
And almost crashed again.
"I've forgotten how long it's been since I heard you telling me, your favorite story~"
He didn't really know whether his curiosity was a good or bad thing here.
Especially when it hit him that this was a love song.
The overlord was absolutely not prepared for this at all.
"I have been thinking for a long time, I started to panic."
Sure, the lyrics weren't exactly a fit to you-
But for him?
Especially when you had still been alive?
A 100% coincidental match.
Or he thinks it's mere coincidence.
"Have I done something wrong~?"
Oh god no do not look at him like that-
Nope nope nope nope-
It took every ounce of control for Vox to just not crash again right then and there.
"You said to me full of tears: 'Fairy tales are all lies.'"
You'd memorized the song, so it made sense that you didn't need to look at the lyrics to sing.
But could you seriously stop looking at him so fondly?
You didn't even know the words you were saying, this was so unfair.
"I couldn't possibly be your prince."
That just made him think back on all the past times he was trying to be... "friendly".
Well, almost borderline romantic even when he was willing to throw down nearly everything for your sake if you so much as asked.
Not that you noticed, Vox doubted you ever would even if it slapped you in the face.
"Perhaps you won't understand- ever since you said you loved me!"
Angel just smirked when he heard the signature whirring of computer fans.
Though he wasn't sure if it was because the overlord got flustered from your singing or because he understood.
Well, it wasn't his problem-
Because it was downright hilarious how insanely oblivious you were.
"The stars in my sky shine brightly!"
Where you were concerned, that was always the case.
Not at the start of course-
But it became adamantly clear when Vox found himself eager to see what kind of chaos you would stir up next.
"I'm willing to become the angel of the fairytale that you love-"
You extended your hand out to him, a silent invite to the tech overlord asking to dance.
He chuckled and smiled at you.
Of course he'd take up that offer.
"Spread up my hands that become wings to protect you~"
The two of you just swayed and danced around to the melody, becoming engrossed once more in your own little world.
You didn't even know what you were singing, but judging by the fond look Vox had directed at you-
It seemed he was enjoying it.
So you continued to indulge him.
"You have to believe, believe that we can be like in the fairy tale!"
You blushed a little bit when he'd twirled you around, after all-
You'd never really danced like this before.
It was like a... different kind of waltz.
Still, it made you feel so dainty.
His gaze just made you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.
"Happy and joyful in the ending~"
The rest of your friends were amused seeing the two of you pretty much being the plot to a convoluted romcom.
Especially when they realized you and Vox kind of forgot they were actually there.
Charlie thought your relationship was endearingly cute-
Vaggie just reacted like her theory had been entirely confirmed.
Alastor felt like it was kinda disgusting-
And Lucifer nearly decked him for trying to ruin your moment.
Angel, Husker and Nifty were busy placing bets on who between the either of you would confess to the other first.
Though by the time the song ended, everyone couldn't help but groan or facepalm.
"Soooo- how'd I do?"
"It's okay, I'd say there's still room for lots of improvement."
"Oh fuck you Vox-"
"Like you'd ever actually go through with that."
"HA- don't try me you slutty-waisted lanky TV-"
"I've been called worse by better, get creative!"
You were both fucking idiots.
And at this point-
It was like your romantic dance hadn't even happened at all.
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calisources · 18 days
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𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.
All sentences on this memes are taken from different sources of literature, television and media about enemies to lovers trope and enemies and lovers trope with some angst thrown into the mix. Change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit.
Does it hurt? Loving someone who can’t love you back?
Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.
What are we doing?
You are capable of making my blood boil like no one else, and yet I feel a magnetic pull I cannot explain.
It’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand
Like whether you should kiss me or punch me.
Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.
You make me feel things that shouldn’t exist. 
Whatever this is, we should stop. I have been. . .compromised.
There’s a fine line between love and hate, and maybe we crossed it a long time ago.
I never thought I could detest someone so much, until the day I realized I was falling in love with you.
We may fight like enemies, but deep down, we both know that our hearts beat for each other.
You infuriate me, challenge me, drive me crazy, but damn it, at the end of the day, I can’t resist you.
It’s that tension that makes this so irresistible.
You’re like an addiction I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.
You’re the thorn in my side, the fire in my veins, and I can’t help but crave your presence in my life.
Loving you feels like a dangerous game.
You infuriate me, yet you’re the only one who truly understands me.
You scare me to my core.
There’s no denying the fire that burns between us.
If any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.
I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.
Tell me you don’t feel this between us. Look at me and don’t look away while saying it.
You claim me your enemy and yet, let me crawl into your bed every night.
You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.
Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you.
I did not asked for this. To be plagued by these feelings.
I tried to deny it for so long, but I don’t want to anymore.
Follow me around. Look at me as if you find me fascinating. Touch me, and say nice things to me. And then, you pull away as if you did nothing at all.
There’s no need for these games.
Well, you know that old saying, “Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies.
You read me wrong.  I wasn't trying to lead you on.
Is that all I am to you? A resource to be used in your scheme?
Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything more than you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But I just- I can't do it tonight, okay?
 You'll lay a man out for implying I'm a whore, but you keep calling me one to my face.
So, the only man that can have you is one who's already tried to kill you. That's logic.
It's like a little death. Several, in fact.
Oh Max, if you really hated Kyle you couldn't have slept with him.
So go on... kiss me... kill me... Do something.
I've often wondered what this moment would be like. Me... you tied up. 
Once this is over, we should really have angry sex.
Hate and love are not so very different things. Both are focused upon another. Both are intense. Both are passionate.
It just means you'd rather be with someone you hate... than be with me.
She's difficult and irritating, and she tries to hit me all the time.
We have a deal, what are you so afraid of?
Only I can hurt you this way. Only I can kiss you like this. 
You dragged me down and now I can’t quit you. 
This is the last time we do this.
Last night was also the last time. And yet, you keep coming back.
Better my mouth than my knife, right?
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aspenispoplar · 20 days
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Ok so here's my thoughts on dungeon meshi as a D&D party finally.
Okay so Laios and Falin's players (P!Laios & P!Falin) are actually brother and sister in real life. P!Laios got his sister to join him in the D&D game he was in. She was pretty shy and so wanted to make a healer character.
So their party plays the campaign for a while. Maybe a couple years or so. Mostly it doesn't have all that intense of a plot, but everyone's enjoying it.
Then in the dragon fight, Falin's player asks the DM if she can save Laios from the dragon's critical hit bite. The DM says sure but she only rolls like a 13, so the DM lets her save him by sacrificing her character, and she agrees.
Everyone's quite shaken up about it all, and to up the stakes the DM has the couple DMPCs/hirelings they had leave the party.
And now we get to the main focus of this headcanon. After P!Falin died, she wanted to make a new character, with a really different vibe from her old one, especially since she had gotten a lot more comfortable playing D&D now. In real life, she and P!Laios enjoy cooking together a lot, so she talked to the DM and P!Laios about it, and out came Senshi- P!Falin's new character!
P!Laios decides to try to help support P!Senshi's desire to focus more on cooking by taking out a book on monster cooking which he put in his inventory as a bit during character creation.
Basically it went like this
DM, (thinking to DMself: they're pretty overleveled now for the earlier layers of the dungeon, I should try and make it harder on them): so, you're running low on money. Even without the hirelings to pay, you need to sacrifice some of your expenses or sell some of your equipment to afford everything you lost.
P!Laios: Hey DM, how much do our rations cost? Because remember that meme book that I gave myself during character creation on cooking monsters?
DM: *very large sigh*
P!Senshi: *barely-restrained giddiness*
That's the main headcanon, but I also have other minor little headcanons about the other two player's characters.
Chilchuck's player has had some antagonistic DMs who loved torturing their players with traps in the past, so when they were told by the DM that the campaign was going to be "a pretty realistic dungeon crawl", P!Chilchuck decided to make the most roguey rogue of all rogues to ever rogue. They maxed out the trap-finding score to the point where the DM had to actually start including more traps for Chilchuck to feel a bit more useful, since the DM never actually planned on using very many traps in the campaign.
Marcille's player is a huge anime fan, and has made on-and-off jokes this whole time about the dungeon being some sort of bad isekai plot.
DM: Marcille, you feel a wet splash on the top of your head, only seconds before a slime drops on top of you.
P!Marcille: Oh? It's on my head? Is it suffocating me? Choking me perhaps...? Restraining me?
DM: Fuck you. Also you take 2 acid damage.
*everyone laughs at the DM's pain*
DM: There is a large plant monster in front of all of you
P!Marcille: Oh? Does it have vines? Like, tentacle-ish vines?
DM: You know what? It does now. It's rolls a 17 on grappling you. Have a good time with that.
P!Marcille: *waggles eyebrows* okay then
DM: I am going to hit you with my car covered in hammers rigged to explode multiple times and hammers go flying everywhere
While all of this is going on the DM is actually secretly very pleased to make a bunch of worldbuilding around the dungeon ecosystem and monsters and everything.
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hellfire--cult · 2 months
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Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, fear of loneliness, family desires, mentions of nausea, slight insinuation of depression
wc: 7.3k
A/N: Sorry for taking so long! We're slowly arriving to the tension bbies.
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 14
It’s been… excruciating.
The past two weeks you spent them locked up and you have asked to work remotely at home. Your boss of course insisted that you need the time off, that she completely understood your position, and your emotions always come first.
You told her about Billy.
You told her how Billy was not in favor of Same-sex marriage, and adoption. He wasn’t in favor of Betas being able to be single parents either. If that information were to get out, the company would be targeted as unethical, and that’s not at all Liana’s principles. The company is completely in favor of the people’s wants and needs.
You really didn’t want to rat Billy out, because this meant that his opportunities would be lost, and it wasn’t done so you could spite him for his personal views. You just couldn’t keep working with someone who is against what your friends want, what your friends ambition to have. Jonathan and Steve want children of their own, and if the laws don’t let that happen, they will never have the family they strive for.
So Liana immediately called Ralph to look for another publishing company. 
At first, he was crazed, yelling at her through the phone until she finally told him she knew about Billy’s facade about the same-sex marriage riots. Ralph was silent on the other end of the phone, and in three days, the contract was done with, and the company had nothing to do anymore with Billy Hargrove.
Now you, it’s a different story. You’ve been miserable. You could feel him everywhere, remembering him on your bed, laughing with each other, smiling like idiots as you told stories about one another’s lives. How he would cook for you and sometimes spoil you with gifts even if you told him you didn’t need any of it.
You wished you hadn’t noticed certain things that didn’t sit right with you. How he acted with your friends at first, how he would scrunch up his nose when you told him things you liked and he didn’t. How jealous you found out he was when he met Eddie. How you fought sometimes for very stupid things, like him not looking after his mess, or not caring about your thoughts about his friends and still dragging you to hang out with them.
So you stayed in. You couldn’t even go to work because you couldn’t look at that stupid closet for a good while. The closet that started it all. You know you have to move on from this, but it’s not easy, not after what you’ve been through before. It’s hard enough to trust someone into your life that way, imagine being vulnerable and let yourself fall in love with them.
You’re glad those feelings didn’t reach Billy. The bomb exploded, a little anticipated thankfully.
You have also neglected the group, telling them you needed time to cool off, to let it all sink before trying to go to their house, or them coming over because you just wouldn’t be yourself, and you would put the whole group down with your mood. The last thing you want and need is to also feel like a nuisance with your friends.
So, better keep it to yourself. You will get through with it alone, like you always have, with everything. There’s no need to bother others with this, not with the mood you have been handling for the past few days. You didn’t talk with anyone, Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan… No one, not even a tik tok or meme. 
It was food, work, sleep, repeat. A shower here and there, and you knew it was wrong but it’s just your head playing a bad pass on you. You had been afraid of falling again, of it going wrong, but you thought it might be different, you really thought it would– Only for it to come crashing down as fast as it started.
How can you even begin to think that there is a chance everything will be fine later on? Will you ever find a destined one? If there is any at all? And with the laws, as they still are, your dream of a family is just– 
Your phone rang, taking your mind away from your thoughts. You didn’t notice you were staring blankly at the TV screen. You didn’t even know what was on, nor you didn’t care. You grabbed your phone to see Robin calling you, making you sigh. You slid the answer button on the touchscreen and put the phone in your ear.
“Robs–”
“I’m not getting a no for an answer. Get ready, get dressed, we’re arriving in twenty.” You straightened up in alarm, eyes widening in surprise. 
“What the fuck are you talking about, who is coming?” You were angry now because you didn’t agree to anything, you weren’t even asked to hang out, much less come to your house. 
“Steve, Eddie, and I. The rest had to do stuff, so we are heading over.” Your breathing caught in your throat as you looked around your spotless house. You needed to keep your mind occupied so you cleaned every surface possible. Still, you never agreed–
“N–”
“I said I wasn’t taking a no for an answer.” And just like that, the line clicked. You groaned loudly in anger as you paced around the living room, tossing the phone towards your couch. You love Robin. You love Robin. You love Robin.
But fuck, you wanted to kill her right now.
And bringing Steve and Eddie along? For fuck sake. You looked down at your clothes and then at your room. You could easily not open the door for them. You can easily drive them off like that because they wouldn’t stay outside more than five minutes if you don’t answer. Yeah, you can definitely do that…
“Ugh!” You grunted into the nothingness as you rushed into your room to throw on the first things that were decent. A pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved turtleneck will do. You combed your hair as best as you could, throwing on some mascara and eyeliner to not look like a corpse. You looked into the mirror and you winced as you barely recognized yourself.
You definitely looked as if a truck ran over you. The bags under your eyes, the tired overall look on your face. You sighed as you scanned your face with your hands and then you looked at your hands. They looked dehydrated, and your nails needed some caring that’s for sure. 
Did you really not take care of yourself the past two weeks? 
You didn’t even notice how dejected you looked. You didn’t even care of looking into a mirror, and now that you do you barely recognize who the woman is in the reflection. Fuck did this hit you bad… You grabbed your concealer and tapped a bit under your eyes, trying to conceal the purple hues under them, wincing when it didn’t do much.
Did you even have food for them? Drinks? Shit… Should you order some pizza? You rushed out towards your kitchen and opened your fridge to see there were two beers, some soda, water… Okay, not much but there are beverages. You closed the fridge to look into your cupboards, wincing when no snacks could be found. 
You groaned as you leaned against the sink. It’s not your fault, is it? You weren’t expecting them, so it’s not your issue if there are no snacks or things to satisfy their hunger. Yeah, it’s not. You never said yes. You let out a sigh out of your lips as you talked out loud.
“Alexa. Play whatever 80’s playlist there is.” 
And the sound of Michael Bolton’s ‘How Am I supposed to live without you?’ came on. You cursed at the sky and you really thought you were cursed. You rushed to your phone to see how long it’s been since Robin called you. Fifteen minutes, shit, they are–
And the doorbell rang.
Five minutes early.
You groaned with a sigh, taking a deep breath in as you looked at the front door. Were you ready to face your friends? Were you ready for them to see you like this? They have all messaged you in order to talk to them, to hang out, to even try to do a video call with them, but you always declined.
Even Eddie tried. He sent you a bunch of memes in order to try to cheer you up, but you never opened them. You just didn’t feel like laughing at all. He had messaged you as well, telling you that he would go to your apartment without your invitation, but he never dared to do so. It seems all of them got tired of you pushing them away. 
You walked towards the door and took a deep breath in as you unlocked the door, slowly opening it to reveal your three friends with a bunch of snacks, sweet and salty, and drinks in their hands. They stopped whispering to one another and turned to look at you and you noticed how Robin’s eyebrows twitched as you crossed your arms over your chest, a glare in your eyes. They were silent as you glared at the group for simply crashing without your consent until–
“You look like shit.”
Your eyes snapped towards Eddie and he had a cheeky smile on his face. You flipped him off as you walked backward to let them in. You heard a giggle coming from Robin and then their steps coming inside your apartment. 
Steve closed the door behind him and headed to the fridge to put the beers inside, already taking four out. Robin put the snacks on the counters looking around to see your house completely spotless and she sighed. She knew that whenever you were anxious or nervous you cleaned in order to keep yourself distracted.
Eddie though, Eddie was looking all around. It was the first time he came to your apartment, and it was very spacious, but his was even more. You didn’t notice when you came by to his workplace, but he lives above the shop. You enter his home through stairs that are on the back, going up towards the second floor. His was more of a loft-looking apartment, those that have brick walls and industrial stuff.
Your house was more modern-like, a little minimalistic but with plants all around. You were very fond of succulents since there are a bunch at the top of your fridge. His eyes then went towards your bookshelf, walking towards it to start inspecting your books.
“So, what are you doing here?” Your voice was angry, yet there was a certain feeling, emotion, that told them you didn’t dislike their intrusion. Robin shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, Steve coming to stand next to her with the same stance.
“You expect us to just wait for you to talk to us? That can happen in a fucking month, and we are not gonna wait that long.” At those words, you couldn’t help but be mad.
“People need their own healing time, and you are invading it.” Your voice was cold, imperative even, and Steve’s head snapped towards Robin worriedly. Your best friend stood her ground as she stared at you, shaking her head.
“I wouldn’t invade it if you at least talked to us. I wouldn’t invade it if you at least came to work instead of working remotely, which by the way, fuck you for making me interact with other people!”
You wanted to laugh at your best friend’s exaggeration, but you had to focus on the fact you were angry at the invasion. You rolled your eyes at her and you walked to rest your hip against the headrest of your couch.
“You are still invading it without my conse–”
“Holy shit, you have Fifty Shades of Grey.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to the dark-haired metalhead that was still holding onto the bag of candies in his hand as he inspected your bookshelf. You raised your eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he was going on about.
“So?” You asked him and he turned to look at you, holding the first book in his hand.
“Seriously? There is better erotica out there sweetheart.” You felt heat on your cheeks at the comment, it’s not like it was your go-to in the book genre… But the bookshelf is indeed filled with smut–
“Hang on, does Eddie Munson read Erotica?” You said mockingly and you heard Steve let out a snort of his, covering his mouth with his hand. Eddie turned to put the book back and a smirk was plastered on his face as he looked at you once more.
“Knowledge is in any form sweetheart.” More heat, that’s for sure. You felt it all over your fingertips even, and you shrugged it off with a roll of your shoulders. He turned to go over to the counter to finally place the candies there. He took a beer from the four that Steve had previously taken out and opened it. 
“Look, I know you don’t want us here, but we really can’t turn our heads and pretend you’re not okay.” Steve finally talked as he grabbed a beer and handed it to you. You could see the doubt in his eyes, the guilt of just barging in as they liked, and you could hear the slight apology behind his words.
You know that the rest would probably be here if they didn’t have work or other plans. You knew that. You gulped the lump in your throat that was already forming there because you had cried enough the first few days and you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore. You were putting on a strong attitude even if you really didn’t feel like being that strong or confident.
You raised your hand towards Steve’s and grabbed the beer from his grip. It was a sign of acceptance that they were already here, and they wouldn’t go away any time soon. You opened your beer as you heard Steve opening his. You looked at Robin who was looking at you with sadness in her eyes and you sighed, shaking your head.
“I’m sorry Robs.”
Your best friend immediately rushed to your aid, wrapping her arms around you in order to pull you close. You felt your chest press on you because of the emotions you were suddenly washed over with. You didn’t know you needed an embrace until now, wrapping your arms around Robin made you feel the lump in your throat coming right back up.
You clenched your eyes tightly trying not to let the tears fall as you felt your heart tightening at the hug. You were immersed into your own sadness that you didn’t know how to get out of and probably all you needed were the people inside the room right now. The ones who care enough that they prefer to invade your privacy than to let you fall deeper into a hole.
Eddie was looking at you, inspecting your face as he felt the sadness radiating from you. Why are you holding back from crying? Why do you always try to keep a strong front? He knows what you’ve been through, and he knows it’s not something easy to let go, but they are here now to help you. You weren’t betrayed by your friends like you had in the past. 
His chest felt a little tight as he saw you hugging Robin and he looked at Steve who had the same worried look on his face, but he let a sigh of relief fall from his lips. They have been worried about you for the past two weeks, and even in the short period of knowing you, he had been too.
You pulled away from Robin and she immediately flicked your forehead with her thumb and index finger, making you wince and rub the area she hurt.
“What the fuck was that for!?” You yelled at that and she giggled at you, turning to go grab a beer for herself.
“For being a fucking idiot.” You rolled your eyes at her but a tiny smile spread on your lips as you took another sip of your beer. You looked up from the can, seeing Eddie looking straight at you, and that made your stomach turn slightly at the intense gaze. Your eyes snapped to Steve who grabbed a tube of Pringles and your mouth salivated at seeing they were your favorite flavor, doing grabby hands at it.
Steve chuckled at your reaction and he opened it for you first before handing it over to you. Still, before you could reach it, Eddie immediately snatched it away, putting his beer on the counter in order to stick his hand in and take a handful of chips, throwing them all inside of his mouth, and making you gasp in disbelief.
“You’re eating them all!” You groaned at him and he only sent a smirk your way, and he could see how your eyebrows were slowly knitting together in the middle of your forehead in anger and annoyance. Oh, he missed that face. It’s been a while since he last saw it. 
“You want some?” He pretended to hand the tube to you and you quickly moved your free hand to grab onto it, only for Eddie to snatch it back. “Too slow.”
“Eddie–” Robin was the one that talked now and Eddie looked at her still with a triumphant smirk on his face.
“Yeah?” And suddenly he was pounced over, your legs wrapping around his waist as you did a big jump, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as your other hand reached over to grab the tube of Pringles. He quickly raised his hand up, yelling at the sudden action, almost falling on his ass by the impact.
“Give me the fucking pringles Munson!!!” You yelled loudly and the arm that was around his shoulders immediately gripped onto the low ponytail, pulling on it, making him wince in pain.
“What the fuck Peach!?” He was trying to keep you two balanced as he thrashed all over the apartment while Robin and Steve started laughing hysterically and taking videos of the scene unfolding before their eyes.
“Y-You never EVER mess with her pringles. NEVER!” You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you wanted the fucking pringles that were on this bastard’s extended arm, out of your reach, so you pulled on his ponytail even harder.
His eyes snapped open at the sudden feeling he got, a part of him twitching that really shouldn’t, so he put you down and slammed the tube of chips on your chest.
“Fine, fine! Take your pringles, Jesus H. Christ!” He cursed and you just took the can in your hands and sent a raspberry his way, and the tight feeling he felt before evaporated just like that, a laugh escaping his lips at your childishness. 
You followed with a giggle and Robin raised an eyebrow up as she turned to look at Steve. He was already grinning, looking at her but the two of them didn’t say anything. Nothing needed to be said. They stopped recording the moment as you started stuffing your face with chips and Robin instantly yelled at your greediness.
Steve chuckled as he looked at Eddie, the smile turning into confusion as he saw Eddie looking at you with a puzzled look on his face, yet a smile was on his lips. Steve tilted his head, wanting to talk to his friend only for Robin to almost knock the small table that you left your beer can on before you jumped on Eddie, making him fumble forward to catch the can as quickly as he could.
The apartment was filled with laughter in a matter of seconds, of yelling and curses. The apartment that remained silent for over two weeks was now full of life you didn’t think you missed that much, and now having it, you’re realizing you were wrong. Now you wished the rest of the group were here. You really wanted the whole group together again.
You needed them. You needed these people who showed you time and time that they wouldn’t hurt you, never intentionally, and even accidentally they would ask for forgiveness. Like Eddie did. 
You looked at him as he now recorded Steve and Robin wrestling for a can of pretzels, claiming it was each other’s favorite, and you were just in a trance as you saw how he was laughing, here, in your house… That laugh you saw many times on Instagram stories when Nancy or Steve would post him. That laugh you never thought would ever be near you.
It was a nice feeling. It definitely was.
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You were outside now, smoking a cigarette in the kind of warm weather despite the season. You let the smoke out into the air as you heard the sliding door of your balcony open and you turned your head to see who the visitor was.
“Well, Robin and Steve overdid it with the special Margaritas.” Eddie stated as he sat on the couch next to you, placing a beer on the small table in front next to the… Eddie grabbed the item and showed it to you with an eyebrow raised up. “A Mickey Mouse ashtray?”
You snorted and almost choked on your smoke as you giggled at that and gave him a nod.
“I thought it would be funny.” It was his turn to smile and shake his head as he put the ashtray back on the table, taking out his own pack of cigarettes so he could light one up. You leaned over to grab his beer and take a sip out of it, and he did not comment on that at all.
He never liked it when people touched his food or his drinks. He would always make a snarky comment about them getting their own, but he really didn’t seem to mind it when you took a gulp and put it back in its place for him to take it next. 
He took a deep inhale of the cigarette in his hand and he turned to look at your profile. You looked happy, yet that feeling of holding something back was still present in your features. His eyebrows twitched slightly as he looked away and into the sky.
“You don’t have to act tough all the time, you know?” You were taken out of your thoughts as you turned to look at him with a surprised look on your face. You shook your head at him, feeling your heart falling slowly into your stomach.
“I am not acting tough. I’m just slowly getting over it.” You looked forward once more, taking a drag of your cigarette, trying to hide the twitch that just happened in your eyebrow, but Eddie knew he couldn’t leave until you finally let it all out. You’ve been enduring it all by yourself the past two weeks, there was no need to do that when they were all here.
“Look, I told you I can read people like the palm of my hand, didn’t I?” He said and you surely remember that. You scoffed and looked at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Yeah, and I’m still wondering if you have a superpower or just a stalker.” He rolled his eyes at your joke and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer and handing the can your way. You took it in your hand and took a gulp as well, putting the can back on the table.
“I am just good at reading people.”
“Right, and I’m–”
“Changing the topic.” 
You closed your mouth and snapped it shut to be completely honest. He was staring at you, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt an intense heat filling your entire body at the gaze, but it was a shameful heat. A kind of guilty feeling rising up inside of you that you couldn’t quite comprehend. 
“L-Look… how I handle my problems is my own issue. I take me time, I prefer to be alone so I can think–”
“Bad.”
Your eyebrows knitted together in anger as you look at him, putting your cigarette out in the ashtray in front of you both. You were becoming defensive, you knew that, but you don’t know why he is intruding so much in your life when he should just back away.
“I always solved my problems this way! And it’s–”
“That’s a lie.” He wasn’t looking at you, but your face was on fire from anger, from nerves, from an anxious feeling that was building inside your guts.
“Excuse me?” You were going to explode at him, you really were, but then his face turned to look at you after he put the cigarette bud out on the ashtray, and your anger evaporated from your whole body at the frown on his eyebrows.
“You didn’t solve it alone in your past.” 
Your heart was beating inside your chest, wanting to run out of your throat, and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears, and your hands started to become sweaty, extremely so. Your head turned, looking away from him and you wanted to run away because the lump in your throat was forming again. Fuck, it was happening once more.
“Sometimes I did.” That was a lie. That was a horrible lie. You always enjoyed the comfort of people, and the hugs they would give you in your moment of stress, of sadness, of anxiety. You always found stillness and calm when you talked to people about your problems.
Eddie was still looking at you with a saddened look on his face. He has been joking with you all night, trying to make you laugh, trying to make you forget… But he knew that you needed this. He knew it, and he wasn’t going to let you live this alone. If he knew something about life, it was loneliness.
“We are not like them.” His voice was calm but reassuring. You almost choked with those words and you gotta give it to him, he was one smart bastard. Your eyes were starting to burn and you needed to hold it in. You needed to.
“I know.” Was your short response, but Eddie didn’t hold back. He needed you to break.
“Then act like it.”
And that was enough for a tear to finally fall from the edge of your waterline and onto your cheek.
You were never alone in these moments. You always told Camila about your issues at work, about your heartbreaks, about your good moments, about your triumphs and your falls, and she had always been there. Always giving you a shoulder, always telling you that everything would be okay, always giving you advice and opinions on the issues you were going through.
You had someone to talk to, someone that knew you since little, someone that you thought would never, ever, not in a million years hurt you, harm you, or destroy you. 
And what if it were to happen again? What if you were to open up to people that would hurt you later on? People that might rip you apart without hesitation? What if you opened up only for a knife to be stabbed back into your mouth?
It was wrong for you to put them all in the same bag, but could you really blame yourself? Could you blame yourself for how hard it was for you to trust someone entirely? It’s not that you don’t trust them, you just don’t trust the future. You don’t trust that everything will be okay. You don’t trust that everything has a happy ending. You simply don’t trust, so you move on tippy toes in order to not step on glass. 
Robin was not like Camila. You knew that Robin would never do to you what Camila had done… but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t. You wished it were. You wished you could see into the future to know that nothing changes, to know that you weren’t going to get your heart broken, but that was impossible.
How can someone trust another person as blindly as you trusted the one that hurt you?
“It’s not easy.” Your voice cracked. Fuck, it cracked. You took a sharp breath in, trying to calm down but he broke the dam. He broke it, and you were shaking trying to hold everything in, trying to tape it all back together.
“I know it’s not sweetheart… The last thing we want is to hurt you…” You didn’t miss the ‘we’. You didn’t miss how he included himself in that equation at all. 
And for some reason, your chest filled with warmth at that, but you couldn’t contain the dam anymore. You really couldn’t, and Eddie’s eyes almost widened when more tears slipped down your face, uncontrollably so. The last time he saw you cry he had to hold back, almost painfully, in order to not go after Hargrove to beat his face in. 
He protects his friends. Just like he punched that guy that tried flirting with Jonathan and groped him without consent. Like the girl that said nasty things to Robin at school and he dumped his drink all over her head. Like when he punched Steve’s father square in the face when he went to his house uninvited, only to see his father slapping Steve across the face after Steve came out as Bisexual.
He will always protect them, and now, you are included in that.
“I–” You had to snap your eyes shut as memories with Henry started coming back to your head, mixing up with the ones you have with Billy. You clenched your eyelids together as the memories turned painful with your resolve, with your heart. Eddie’s eyes twitched as he scooted closer to you but not touching you, even if he wanted to wrap his arms around you.
“You can do it, sweetheart.” 
And you finally let that sob out of your throat. That lump that you swallowed many times during the night, the lump of words that needed to be thrown out of your lips but did not have the bravery to do so. And once that sob was out, many more came out after, tears falling even when your eyes were shut.
He didn’t interrupt your tears, your sobbing, your crying. He didn’t interrupt you even when he thought you were running out of air, he just let you cry without invading your space. He let you finally break down in peace, in a safe place, and he is joyful that you find that safe place with him. He knows you are not being evil to Robin, he just knows how to read people and he knows what they sometimes need to hear.
You knew your face was a mess, your eyes were red, your nose was snotty, but you couldn’t help it. You were letting out feelings that you held in for the past two weeks. Feelings that you pushed to the back of your head because you didn’t even want to think about it, you didn’t even want to say them out loud, but they were a great fear. 
“I–” It was hard to talk, but you needed to do so. You needed to talk, to voice those fears out, to say what you are thinking, to say what you desire and what you are afraid of. Eddie noticed now that you were breathing irregularly, and even if he wanted to leave you alone, he didn’t want you to choke.
“Peach, I need you to calm down, slowly, you are choking on your breaths.” He now pressed a hand on your back, and you felt yourself feel lighter for some reason. Your sobs kept coming out as you took deep breaths in, but he was patient with you, guiding you every time you failed to take a long breath. 
You might have stayed like that for a whole twenty minutes but he never stopped rubbing your back, coaxing you into breathing, but he wasn’t making you stop crying. He wanted you to keep doing that but needed you to breathe properly. 
Your chest started going up and down slower and slower as time passed, a few sobs came out here and there, but the tears never stopped in quantity. They were waterfalls, just coming down and down, but you no longer cared. You didn’t.
And then Eddie finally saw your eyes again as you opened them. They were red, and glossy, your eyebrows were knitted together in the center of your forehead, and he noticed the pain that was being held inside of you. The grip on your back was a little harder now, but he reminded himself that he had to be gentle now, to push his own anger aside.
You looked out in the distance, and your throat was burning from all the sobbing, from all the crying, from holding that lump for so long, but it felt amazing. It felt as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders, of your head, of your body. But the weight in your heart was still there, and the only way to lift it–
“I’m scared…”
And Eddie’s ears perked up.
“What are you scared of?” And you took a deep breath in, and you finally opened your heart.
“All my life… I’ve always wanted kids. One, two… Maybe three.” A small smile appeared on your lips as you talked. “I know it’s cliché, but–”
“It’s not. It’s your dream.” Your eyes found his with surprise in them and he was looking back at you with an intense gaze you never saw from him before. You gave him a small nod and looked back down to your lap to continue.
“When I got together with Henry and when I got married… I was so happy, so excited. I told my mom how I couldn’t wait to start a family. Henry told me he wanted it too, that he always dreamt of being a dad.”
You cleared your throat as you felt another lump coming out thanks to the memories of Henry telling you all about the plans he wanted for his kids. Your mind was off again, lost in thoughts, and Eddie needed to get you out of there.
“He wanted kids like you…” Eddie pushed and you snapped back into conversation again, noticing you had stopped talking.
“Yes… He wanted them… Just not with me, it seems.” 
Eddie’s free hand turned into a tight fist, veins popping out from the strength. He can’t do anything about it, it was your past, it was done with, but the anger wasn’t any less. He really wanted to kill that man. He just wanted to rip his head off. 
“Peach–”
“And… with Billy– When I told him about this… He didn’t back away. He told me he wasn’t ready now, but that the idea didn’t scare him. That he always wanted…” A giggle escaped your lips as you remembered something and Eddie’s eyebrow raised up.
“What?” He was a little worried about your change in emotions, but maybe it was necessary for you.
“He told me he always wanted to name a kid of his, Eustace.” At that Eddie snorted, putting his free hand over his mouth as he shook his head.
“Okay, that is a horrible name. Poor kid.” He laughed and you didn’t hold back the giggle which turned into a sad frown as you tried to keep the sob in your throat. 
“Yeah…” Your eyes drifted down to your lap, and you noticed how you were fiddling with your fingers, trying to keep yourself moving in some way. You felt your stomach in a strange amount of knots, almost making you feel sick. “But now, I’m no longer with him.”
“Peach–”
“What if I never reach that dream of mine Eddie?” You were fully looking at him now, and his eyes almost widened at the fear he saw behind yours. Fresh tears slipped down your eyes as you shook your head at him. “What if it never happens for me?”
Eddie was speechless. He never expected to see you afraid of anything, much less about your own dreams and convictions. He was staring at you as you kept looking at him, letting him finally see the pains and the fears that always plagued your head, finally voicing out what you’ve been afraid of doing for the past weeks, for the past year.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure it will happen, you are young–”
“And what if it doesn’t? What if I get screwed over again and again?” You knew you sounded crazy but the what-ifs always tortured your mind. They were always like little knives trying to dive themselves into your scalp, twisting in order to get to your brain. 
“You don’t know that.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled together in the center, slowly centering in the problem, realizing that… you had a reason to be scared.
“But what if!? I can’t– I won’t ever have children! And I don’t want to marry someone for the sake of it, I really don’t!” A sob escaped your lips, but you didn’t mind as you kept talking, “I can’t adopt on my own either because this fucking world sucks! Everything just fucking sucks Eddie!” 
And Eddie broke, his arms wrapping around your frame to pull you into him, your bodies twisting in order to face each other, but not uncomfortably. You welcomed the hug, your mind no longer in defense mode. There was no fortress now, the dam was broken, the armor you put on for the past year crumbled completely. 
One of his arms was wrapped on your shoulders to pull you into his chest, while the other stayed over your arm. Your hands went around his waist and found grip on his back, your face squashed in his chest while his chin rested at the top of your head.
And you cried.
And Eddie held you.
And you cried some more.
And Eddie never complained.
And you both had no idea how long you’ve held one another. You didn’t realize either how your cries made Robin and Steve sober up slightly and stand in alert at the door of your balcony while Eddie looked at them with a pained look in his eyes. You didn’t notice when Eddie shook his head towards them so they wouldn’t scare you away, so they wouldn’t stop you from crying.
Why with Eddie? Why did you break with him? How did he even manage to do it? Robin is going to be pissed at you again, and your mind was being evil to you because Robin was far from angry when she saw Eddie hugging you just now. She was relieved. She was relieved that she was hearing you cry.
You felt Eddie’s hand going up and down your arm, trying to calm you down, and your nails were digging into his waist, his hips, his back, trying to put your feet back into the ground, and he didn’t care. The pain that your nails caused him, he knew it couldn’t compare to what you were feeling right now. The fear, the sadness, the hopelessness of never getting what you most desire. 
That is something he knows perfectly well. For he has his own that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get.
After a while your shoulders stopped shaking, your grip softened, and Eddie knew his shirt was drenched, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Who would have thought the woman he couldn’t stand months ago was now crying onto his chest as if the world was going to end and she had tons of regrets about things she didn’t fulfill. 
You slowly pulled away from him and quickly wiped your face because you knew all your makeup was smudged. You must look like a mess but there was no energy in you to be embarrassed about this. 
But fuck if it didn’t feel good.
You felt lighter than ever. Way lighter than when you were with Billy even. A fear that had settled deep into your stomach and you never voiced it out for him. You sniffled and stared down at your lap, your breaths still coming out like sighs out of your mouth. 
You felt his bent index finger rest below your chin and he raised your head so he could look at your face. Your pupils clashed with his and your stomach did a jump. Just one jumpy knot. Your eyes were puffy already, your lips were still trembling, and you were sniffling nonstop, but Eddie didn’t look disgusted or thrown off. He looked calm, yet you could feel a certain empathy, a certain understanding from how he was looking at you as if he was saying a silent ‘I know how you feel.’
“You’re still young, we all are, and you don’t know what the future holds, so being afraid of it is useless and fruitless.” 
And your eyes were looking into his, and you could see how he was always trying to be strong too, even when he knew what the future held for him and his uncle. You realized that Eddie had it worse than you… because he knew. He knows how it will end, and he is the one telling you to not think about your uncertain future.
“I’m sorry…”
It came out of your lips naturally, feeling selfish again for not realizing sooner how your words might affect him. He only gave you a small smile and with his thumb, he wiped one of your cheeks from the stains of your tears. 
“Nothing to be sorry for Peach. It’s normal to have fears… but you gotta let life give you some surprises, okay?” Eddie replied softly, and you felt calm in his voice, in his touch and you only wanted to rest against his shoulder because tiredness was slowly consuming you. He seemed to notice and he rested his back against the couch and patted his shoulder for you to rest on him. 
You couldn’t bother to feel ashamed, bothered, embarrassed, you needed the cuddle, the snuggle, the touch. You needed to feel warmth again, to feel care from someone towards you, from someone wanting to make you feel better, to console you.
You don’t even remember when you fell asleep.
It wasn’t until the next day that you were in bed, waking up groggily still in the same clothes from yesterday night that you realized you slept the night away and you didn’t even flinch when Eddie or Steve moved you to your bed. 
You groaned as you got up from the bed, feeling your throat as dry as a desert, only to almost fall to the ground when your foot hit something on the floor. You looked down with a gasp to see Robin sleeping with her mouth wide open and the spare futon under her. You contained a giggle as you tiptoed to your desk and got a marker out.
You kneeled down next to your best friend’s head and you slowly drew a mustache at the top of her lip. You smiled at your work of art and straightened up in order to go to your kitchen, only to stop in your tracks when you saw Steve sleeping on your living room couch and then Eddie…
He brought the balcony couch inside to sleep in.
Your features softened at seeing his sleeping face, soft breaths coming out from in between his lips, blocking Steve’s loud snores away. He could have gone home instead of sleeping cramped and uncomfortable on your small couch. He stayed despite that and is sleeping soundly in your living room. 
Your heart gave one thump. Two thumps. Maybe three. 
An hour later you were making some breakfast. You took your time to go down to the street and go to the small market in the corner to get some eggs and milk in order to make some waffles in your waffle maker. You got some syrup and powdered sugar, then blueberries and some bananas. 
It seems the smell of food woke Robin up, as always, and you heard her walking out of the room groggily but with a pleasant voice coming out of her mouth.
“Mmm, that smells so–”
And you turned around just in time as she cracked up in laughter, pointing at Steve’s face. Steve jolted awake, shooting up on the couch with his hair completely disheveled, only to then start laughing as well as he saw Robin’s face.
“What the fuck is that!?”
“Me!? What the fuck is on your face Harrington!?”
“Can the both of you shut the fuck up?” The last voice said in a really gruff tone that if it weren’t for the situation at hand, your knees would have buckled. Steve and Robin turned to look at Eddie only to snort loudly and then laugh even louder than before, making Eddie raise an eyebrow of his.
“Dude, your fucking face–” Steve choked out and then he immediately shut up, face falling. He rushed to get up and run to the mirror that was in a column of your living room. He yelled when he saw that all of his freckles were now connected all over his face and neck, like a constellation of some sort, a few childish stars drawn here and there.
Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw Robin’s mustache and got up as well, rushing to the mirror alongside her to check himself out. He had small horns on his forehead and his eyebrows were filled and put in the shape of an angered frown. He straightened up and your three friends turned to look at you as you started whistling while turning your waffle maker.
“Does anyone want waffles?”
At the lack of response, you slowly turned around to find Eddie already towering over you and you choked on a snort, closing your mouth tightly because he just looked like a cartoon right now.
“You think it’s funny?”
“A little.” At your response, Eddie gave a nod.
“Steve, Robin. Pin her down.”
You ended up having your face drawn on. Your forehead had a small crown at the corner, your cheeks had two hearts and for good measure, Eddie put his own touch to it all and drew a dick in the corner of your mouth.
And you all ate waffles with drawings on your faces.
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End of chapter 14
A/N: Reblogs always help more than likes. Please support artists that way!
Taglist is closed! I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.
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aesthetic-gamersnail · 5 months
Text
What happened in the first family counseling session of the brothers (it contains a spoiler from Trolls 3 since it is based on the movie, so be warned)
Edit: Originates from the meme I made to this topic. Enjoy :)
Therapist: So, at the beginning I always like to begin with the question: why are you here?
The brothers are sitting on a couch in a nicely dimmed room which has green paint on the walls. The therapist sits across them in his armchair, between him and them a coffee table with a vase of fresh flowers, a cup full of pencils, a neat stack of papers and - what immediately catches Clay's eyes - a burning scented candle. (The order in which the brothers sit on the couch from left to right: Branch, Clay, Spruce, Floyd, John)
All: ...
John: Honestly, I think there is no reason for why we are here.
Bruce: And I think, that you are probably one of the main reasons why we are here. And you probably need it the most.
John: I'm sorry, but I think the real reason we are here is because our little brother's lady forced him to do it.
Branch: WHAT? *he whipped his head around* She didn't force me to do it, she recommended it to me and I took her advice because you know what? I actually CARE about our family and I think we could do a lot better.
John: Do you want to say that I don't care about this family?
Floyd: Guys, guys, please, calm down.
Branch: Geez, John, I don't know, did not really get the vibes when you said we would go our separate ways after we saved Floyd.
John: Are you still bent down on this? Look, I'm sorry that I said that but things are different now, right? We are together now, so why are still hung up on the past?
Branch: Just because something is in the past doesn't mean it doesn't have any effect on me anymore. And besides, it has been, what, two weeks ago? I wouldn't call it the past yet.
John: Potato, tomato. See, this is your problem: you take things way out of proportions and let your emotions control you.
Bruce: Well, at least he shows his emotions and talks about them, in contrast to someone else.
John: Excuse me?
Bruce: You heard me.
Clay, interrupting their talk since he also was not listening to them, asks the therapist: Is the candle not a fire hazard? Is this even allowed in such an establishment?
Floyd: Guys, please, calm down. We haven't even properly started and we are already fighting with each other. Let's all breathe for just a moment and then resume to talk.
...Silence for a few moments ...
Therapist:....So I see, there is a lot of pent up aggression going on he-
John: NOPE, no! You know what? It has been fun and all but I honestly don't want to be here anymore. So, I'll be taking my leave.
Floyd: John, plea-
John: Floyd, I'm sorry, but I really can't do it. I already know how this whole thing is going to go, therefore, why should I even stick around?
Bruce: Wait, what do you mean by tha-
Branch: Oh, because you know everything, don't you?
John slowly getting irritated with this situation, suddenly stands up and says: Listen he- *THUMP* *CRASH*
But he is interrupted by the sound of the coffee table falling to the ground. He stood up too fast and took the coffee table in his momentum with him, which made it rock back and forth, till it finally hit the ground facing the brothers. But with the coffee table, also the vase and the scented candle came to the ground. The vase bursts into many splinters which fly into the air in various directions. One splinter shoots into John's foot.
At the sight of the first drop of blood coming from his foot, John says: Oh my god, hahaha, look at that..
And passes out.
Floyd: OH MY GOD, JOHN, ARE YOU OK?
Bruce: Ohhhhhh, I remember now. He was always afraid of blood, ever since he was a kid. Did not think, it still bothered him.
Floyd: Didn't he live in the wilderness for 20 years? How did he survive?
Branch: oh my god, OH MY GOD!
Branch rolled off screaming from the couch.
While Bruce and Floyd were busy with John, the scented candle rolled it's way to the couch and ignited it.
Clay: AHA, I KNEW IT. *Clay laughs* I knew it would be a fire hazard. You have some explaining to do, mister. *he pointed his finger at the therapist, smiling*
His smile drops.
Clay:...Oh shit.
Branch: HOW DO WE PUT OUT THE FIRE? WHAT IS EVEN HERE TO PUT OUT A FIRE? *running around frantic, looking for something that would help against the fire*
Floyd: Ok, so we have an unconscious body and a fire going on. Just, d-don't FREAK out, Bruce, and stay calm!
Bruce:...I am calm.
Floyd: I SAID STAY CALM!
Clay:...Is not the first step to dealing with building fires 'Inform people in the immediate area to evacuate'? Well, *turns to the therapist* I think you should be the one to leave and warn people, AND also call 911, as we have a *stares at the unconscious John, the anxious Floyd, the confused Bruce and the frantic Branch running around* situation going on.
The therapist, staring at this whole situation in horror:...I honestly don't get paid enough for this. *flees the scene*
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decolonize-the-left · 3 months
Text
When are we going to talk about how gen z and alpha growing up with lifelong access to tech didn't make them good with technology, it made them bad with people.
A lot of people, when Leave the World Behind was released, related to the youngest character. The daughter who's only priority and desire was to watch the Friends finale as the adults around her were crippled with anxiety about politics, current events, and the very real possibility a war was happening.
One of her most hard-hitting lines was about wanting nothing but the smallest of comforts in a world that guaranteed you none. So if she was gonna die, she was gonna die watching Friends.
She had little to no empathy for her parents or the rest world, which is key to her character's behavior throughout the movie.
"yes, okay the internet is out and there's a blackout and flamingos are in the pool in the USA, and you're terrified, but can you just please fix the TV for me?"
And yeah, I do think it was the damn phones. Because what she's doing isn't all that different from what a LOT of Americans and Gen Z are doing right now while genocides happen.
It's not that different from what a lot of us do. See something awful on our phone and at some point put the phone down like we didn't. Instead we make dinner, do laundry, go to work.
It's our routine.
But gen z and alpha were born into that climate, unlike the rest of us. They didn't grow up seeing the internet be built. They didn't grow up with friends who created forums or sites or were constantly finding new ones. All that already existed. The internet doesn't have secret corners to hide in anymore. Just shadowy ones you really shouldn't wander into.
The work that needed to be done was already done or being done by someone else. Markets and sites were already saturated. If I want to Google something right now, I know for a fact that someone already posted sources and a webpage for it, too.
So much was simply Provided to them. They're so used to the idea of Unknown Others solving problems for them.
Why would they make the effort to solve anything themselves when experience has shown they just have to Google it. Or that it probably already exists. And what difference would They make anyway?
Afterall they themselves are just another Unknown Other in someone else's life, aren't they? Someone nobody thinks about again after their avatar scrolls by.
Is it really that far of a stretch to say that doing this everyday or even just seeing it happen everyday has had material and tangible effects on us as a society?
That it's resulted in a generation of kids who not only undervalue themselves but the impact they are capable of having on their society. Who have resigned to simply Existing within the world instead of trying to thrive in it?
Can we talk about how millennials saying "the next generation will handle it" was nothing but entitlement? We wanted to stop fighting and tried to pass the torch onto a generation that hadn't even graduated high school yet.
And we made things worse by doing that. If we can refuse to fight for them, why would they fight for anyone else? And when parents hand their kids an iPad and send them off to occupy themselves why would they look for human connections?
We taught them not to.
The internet was and is the only consistent thing Gen Z and alpha has had that did not expect anything of them.
And now most of us would be content to doomscroll in the apocalypse in the name of our "mental health"
We've all seen the memes and jokes about it, don't backpedal now. Like I said, a lot of people saw Rose in that movie and made #me & #same posts.
Few would get up and try to cause the change to change anything. Which, in that movie and IRL is how change is made. Real people getting up and working together. Someone doing the work nobody else wants to because someone has to.
But what happens when you grew up thinking someone else was always gonna do it for you anyway?
And that if they didn't, that you were the least qualified because the internet is Full of people more capable than you, right?
The world is full of people more capable than you. Your phone told you that, didn't it? So there's no point in you doing anything.
Is there?
X
People need people, in case you forgot. People need you, in case you forgot.
You're not an Unknown Other in my phone. You are person, in case you forgot.
My tribe has this saying that I know is shared with other natives "be a good ancestor"
A reminder that not only are we the product of the people who came before us, but the people after us will be products of us and our choices, too. That time is linear and goes forward and that how we spend that time matters. Not just for us, but for every single person who will come after us.
A reminder that even though we may be one person in a very long line, we are never ever without the power to change our future. That we have a responsibility to our community and family to use the time we are given for good. A reminder that the life I have isnt just for me. It's for a we.
That I am not just some Unknown Other. I'm a community member, I'm a person, and as such I owe it to my community to be better and demand better for them.
I think a lot of people need that lesson.
You're not an Unknown Other that nobody thinks about. Youre a community member and I actually think about you all the time.
I think about everyone who has resigned to doomerism all the time and I wish y'all would wake up. You're like the depressed cousin on the couch who naps too much and this is me trying to snap you out of it again.
Wake up.
You're loved and valued and people need you. Get up. Be a good ancestor.
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it's only the rest of your life
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Matty Healy x Brittany Jackson
11,189 words.
Brittany goes through phases with her best friend, not Charli, but Ravenna, the one person she still speaks to from Australia. With the difference in time zones and their differing careers – one, a high-powered executive for a production company, and the other, the greatest living rock star of the 21st century (at least in his opinion) – they ebb and flow out of each other's lives. Right now, they’re flowing together. There have been lots of late-night conversations and giggles from his fiancée as she stares down at her phone, grinning at whatever meme or inside joke they’re currently sharing, so it's not totally unusual for him to wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. 
What is unusual is the screaming. 
Adrenaline immediately pumps through his body, stress floods his veins, and sleep clouds his vision as he tries to untangle himself from the sheets quickly. By the time his feet hit the floor, Brittany is already running into the room, and he panics just before she throws herself at him, jumping into his lap with sparkly eyes and flushed cheeks. 
“Rav’s getting married!” 
~~~ 
Britt flies her out to London to go wedding dress shopping, and he shuts his mouth when both women glare at him as he asks if it's a little soon to be buying a dress. They disappear all day long, only shooting a text to the group chat with all their friends, inviting them to one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants in Chelsea for dinner. When he walks in the door, he’s not surprised to see Britt half tanked, giggling over a half-empty glass of champagne, but he is surprised to see Ross questioning Rav about her new fiancé. 
“How tall is he?” the bassist questioned with an arched brow. “How much money does he have?” 
Ravenna is laughing hysterically, and he wonders if she knows how serious his mate is. 
~~~ 
The "Save The Date" card arrives a few weeks later in a heavy silver envelope with their names in loopy cursive on the front. It’s the first piece of mail they’ve received with his last name alongside Brittany’s first name, and he won’t lie and say he hates the look of it. Some type of unidentifiable pride swells in his chest when he sticks the wedding reminder on the fridge, and he messages Jamie to block out some time in their calendar. 
~~~ 
The late-night phone calls with her best friend slowly, over the next few months, become replaced with late-night phone calls to vendors in Australia that aren’t being as helpful or cooperative as they could be. Since she’s the Maid of Honour, Brittany throws the weight of her name around in the hope of fixing problems as they arise and miraculously it works. 
Every. Single. Time. 
Their lazy Sundays together turn into lazy Sundays alone as Britt’s always up at the crack of dawn, running or doing some new class at the gym. She’s going from working out sparingly, maybe once or twice a week, to going every morning, and he’s really beginning to miss waking up with a mouthful of her hair and Mayhem snoring at the end of the bed. 
She’s also been flying back and forth between London and Melbourne at least once a month, which, even though she’d never say, has been killing her. There are dress fittings, cake tastings, hair and makeup trials, and then the bridal shower, and then a whole bunch of other stuff that he doesn’t even pay attention to anymore because it just seems endless. All he knows is that she’s beyond exhausted every time he picks her up from the airport, dead on her feet, dragging her suitcase behind her as she comes through the terminal. 
“Maybe you could postpone the next trip?” 
He’s trying to rein her in a little because he’s worried. More than once he’s come downstairs in the middle of the night to find her slumped over the dining table, her laptop open, with to-do lists that are pages long and Mayhem passed out by her feet. The jet lag normally messes her up for a few days, which then makes her schedule even tighter for the end of each week as she tries to cram everything she’s missed into a few days. By the time she’s back on top of things again, she’s ready to go back to Heathrow and travel another 26 hours to the other side of the world. 
“Without her, we would never have met.” She’s serious, holding his eye contact until he feels like he needs to look away shamefully. 
It’s true, and it's a story they love to tell people. Jamie used to know Ravenna from way back; they were old friends from university. The 1975 were about to start their first tour since the global pandemic, so Jamie reached out to Rav asking whether she knew anyone who had the time to look after them. The one and only person she recommended was Britt, and the rest was well-documented history. 
“Being a little stressed out for a few months is hardly payback for everything she’s given me.” She turns back to her laptop before correcting herself. “Given us.” 
He decides to start being helpful instead of trying to slow her down. 
~~~ 
On the flight to Australia, Britt works on her Maid of Honour speech, writing down her thoughts messily onto one page and compiling them neatly on another. She crosses out lines and changes words, and he feels like he’s getting an insight into her songwriting process. He’s seen her occasionally, when her eyes glaze over in the middle of a sentence because she’s just thought of something she should write down. He’s never seen everything being put together like this though. It’s nice, and he’s proud of her. 
Britt hands him the notebook when they still have a few hours left of their layover, and they’re trying to kill time in the airport lounge. He reads over the parts she isn’t sure about, wondering if it needs to be funnier or more heartfelt, and makes notes in the margins using a red pen he borrowed from one of the waiters. She sits beside him on the lounge, their thighs pressed together tightly as they work, and he’s reminded of being in the front booth of the bus when she was still their Executive Tour Assistant. 
Her speech is honestly kind of perfect, and he can’t help but wonder what kind of vows she’d be able to write for him when they inevitably get married. They both had been lazy when it came to their own wedding, but they both just couldn’t be bothered with it all for the moment. Charli had suggested a planner to do it all for them, and after seeing how Britt has handled Ravenna’s wedding, he’s seriously considering it because he truly had no idea of how intense all of this was. 
When they finally arrive in Melbourne, a car service drops them off at the swanky hotel they’re staying in for the week. Their room is more like an apartment with a little kitchenette, a living room with an actual lounge set, and a separate bedroom through some double doors. Stepping onto the balcony desperately for a cigarette, he looks around their city views. Skyrises surround them, all silver and glittering in the sun, but when he stands on his toes and leans over the railing slightly, he can just see the ocean, a few boats floating in the water. 
Britt is already pulling her suitcase apart, searching for one of the dresses she brought so she can start getting ready for the bridal luncheon that starts in a few hours. It’s another event that he thought was kind of stupid, Rav hosting lunch as a thank you to her bridesmaids who had been running around for the last few months. It’s not that he thinks Ravenna shouldn’t be thanking everyone; it's just that he can’t see how one lunch is enough of a thank you for how frantic Britt’s life had become in the last year because of this wedding. 
(He might also be feeling shitty towards it because he hasn’t slept in over a day, but that's whatever.) 
He kind of forgets all his negative thoughts an hour later when Britt steps out of the bathroom, wearing a strapless yellow minidress that falls just above her knees. Her hair is curled, with messy ends because she hates it when it's too sleek, and her lips are shiny and pink. 
“Pretty,” he breathes as he sits up from the bed, and she smiles brightly at his reaction. 
He’d spent the time alone messing around on his phone since he didn’t have to worry about the airplane Wi-Fi anymore and convincing himself not to fall asleep. His hands fall to the back of her thighs as she steps between his legs, and her fingers rake across his scalp lightly, causing shivers to run down his spine. 
“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” She wonders softly. 
“Wait for you to come back to me?” 
She rolls her eyes and pushes him away with a snort, but he’s not even sure if he was joking. 
He ends up spending the day wandering around, trying to get his bearings on where they are. He buys a few things here and there, a rare Brittany Jackson EP vinyl from a store he found down an alleyway, and coffee that was probably the best he’d ever had but cost him $9. He watches a few buskers like a tourist and FaceTime's his mum when he’s walking along the river that weaves through the city. The best part of his day is when he finds an art gallery and loses himself inside it for hours, staring at the paintings and googling the artists he’s never heard of and wants to know more about. 
Britt texts him an address of a restaurant that she wants him to meet her at for dinner when it's almost 7 pm, and when he arrives, she’s already ordered him a glass of red wine that’s waiting for him, in front of the empty chair beside her. He kisses her quickly before pressing a kiss to Ravenna’s cheek and shaking her fiancé's hand. He’s met Lucas before, at the engagement party a year ago and a handful of other times when he and Rav have come to London. He thinks he’s a sound guy, a lawyer or some other kind of big money executive, and honestly, kind of perfect for Ravenna. 
(Sorry, Ross.) 
Taking his seat, his arm automatically falls to the back of Britt’s chair, and his fingers twist through her hair gently. They all make light small talk as they look over the menu, and he sips his wine. 
“You’re a bit red,” Brittany smiles, pushing the hair off his forehead and using her hands to cool his heated skin. “Have fun today?” 
“Bought you something.” He grins, grabbing her hand and kissing the inside of her palm. “I’ll give it to you later.” 
“A girl can only hope.” She winks at him, and he rolls his eyes. 
~~~ 
“What the fuck do I even wear?” 
“I don’t think the strippers are going to care,” she taunts with a cackle. 
“Fuck off with that,” he rummages through his suitcase at the bottom of the hotel bed for a different button-down to go with his slacks. Ever since he got invited to the bachelor party, she’s been cracking jokes at his expense. He clocked instantly that she wasn’t totally happy about the end-of-night activities, but really, he doesn’t plan on sticking around that long anyway. 
(Not when the girl he gets to come home to acts more wildly than some of his most insane fantasies. He’s sure that if he asked, she’d give him the lap dance of his dreams. He’d be able to add the moment to his “Brittany Jackson” titled memory bank that kept him warm on long nights away from her on tour.) 
“What about this?” He holds up a dark collared shirt, and she nods approvingly before licking her lips as he changes his outfit. 
He can see her rubbing her legs together as he pulls the material off his shoulders, so he moves a little slower, taking his time folding up the shirt neatly and placing it gently among his other clothes. He unbuttons his belt, leaving it open and hanging loosely from his hips as he slips the new shirt on, tucking it into his pants with measured movements. 
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Britt whines, and he laughs, moving around the bed and leaning over her. 
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
He presses his lips against hers, sliding a hand down her ribs and towards her lower stomach. She gasps against his mouth and his hand moves lower and then he stops with a grin as she growls in frustration. They don’t have time for this anyway, she’s supposed to be finishing getting ready, not lying in bed, still wearing a towel from her shower because she was too lazy to get dressed. 
He may have started the game, but she wins when she pulls the towel from her body and starts trailing fingers across her skin. It’s difficult to focus on getting dressed when she’s writhing on the bed in front of him, pinching at her nipples, her back arching slightly with her mouth dropped open after moaning his name. He can feel his trousers getting tighter across his pelvis, the material straining against his hardening cock and his breath gets shorter as he watches her play with herself. 
“Don’t you have golf to play?” She mocks as she grinds her hips against the bed, squeezing her thighs tightly together, searching for some kind of relief without using her hands. 
“I wanna play with you.” 
She laughs with a gasp as he pulls her legs apart, exposing her to the cool air. He can see how wet she’s become, glistening slick coating the insides of her thighs and shining around her folds. He feels mesmerised by it, how he hardly touched her and has this effect on her body. 
“You’re gonna be late.” She reminds him, sitting up and wrapping her calves around his thighs so he couldn’t leave anyway. Her tits bounce as she moves, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about a stag do right now. 
He responds by pushing her back against the bed and circling his tongue around her clit. 
~~~ 
He’s only a few minutes late to the round of golf and manages to beat most of the groomsmen there. His shirt is unbuttoned lower than he’d normally wear it, with the top of his chest piece on show, but he hopes nobody notices it's only because the top two buttons are missing after Britt tore it off his chest. 
He has a few drinks at the bar with Lucas, chatting idly about what the girls might be getting up to that day. He grins proudly when Lucas’ father, Henry, tells Matty that he’s lucky to have Brittany, a “good girl,” and he “won’t find anyone better.” He knows this already, but it’s nice to hear it from other people sometimes. 
(He does not mention the things he did to that good girl not even an hour ago, but he does replay in his mind her legs thrown over his shoulders as she moaned his name and thinks about how much of him dripped from her swollen pussy afterwards.) 
They ride around the course on some carts, and he gets introduced to the other groomsmen, who all seem nice enough. They make a few jokes, and he gets a few ribs in here and there about Lucas. He’s glad he decided to come because he now knows that this was more fun than sitting around the hotel room watching television. He feels more comfortable when the golf is over, and they move on to an upscale steakhouse in the city. The best man passes him an imported cigar that they smoke at the rooftop bar as they wait for their table to be ready. 
Britt texts him every couple of hours, checking in on him and letting him know whenever things have gone wrong. The messages have more typos in them the later the day gets, and he's glad she’s finally letting her hair down and getting a bit loose after the last few months. He tells her he loves her and that he’ll see her later before putting his phone back in his pocket when the other lads start giving him shit for messaging his girlfriend. 
“Fuck off,” he laughs. “Isn’t it your round next?” 
He throws back the last of his drink and points towards one of the mouthier groomsmen who's been kind of getting on his nerves a little bit. There’s always one guy at a buck's night that gets a little too boisterous, and this guy is vying for the title of “knobhead of the year.” 
Henry bids them all goodbye after dinner, slipping Lucas a few hundred-dollar bills with a wink and stumbling into a taxi after a few too many top-shelf whiskeys. Matty’s not entirely feeling all that sober himself, a few lagers and a bottle of red down, which is probably why he didn’t exactly realize they’d all fallen into a strip club. 
The music thumps, and girls in various states of dress wander around the venue, slipping into empty laps and spinning around poles on the stage. He meets the groom at the bar, who’s facing away from the live entertainment and watching the beer being poured into another pint glass instead. 
“How much shite are you going to be in for being here?��� Matty asks, pointing to the groom and telling the waitress that he’ll be paying for both of their drinks, sliding his credit card along the bar. 
“None. Rav doesn’t really care about any of this.” Lucas waves his hand and gestures towards the room. “But paying for this when I’ve got a girl at home is weird.” 
He doesn’t think Lucas would be so loose lipped if he hadn’t been ploughed with alcohol all day but still nods in agreement. They can hear the rest of the group cheering loudly and attracting attention from everyone in the club, and Matty decides to have a cigarette instead, offering one to the groom who gratefully accepts, and they move outside with their drinks. 
They end up having a really good time together, talking about their partners and what the next year looks like. Matty picks Lucas’ brain about the wedding and how he knew what he wanted, how he knew it was Ravenna that he needed to spend the rest of his life with. He’d proposed to Britt the year before and wondered if the guy's feelings mirrored his. 
“How am I supposed to love someone else? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” 
He thinks the answer is perfect. 
When Lucas is dragged away by the rest of the group to get up on stage and get a “special bachelor party dance,” Matty finishes his drink and quietly exits through the door, nodding his head towards the best man in goodbye. He hails a cab back to his hotel for the evening and orders some more drinks through room service when he gets inside. 
It's barely past midnight, and he doesn’t expect Brittany to come back for hours, if at all, so he putters around, hanging up her towel from earlier and cleaning up her makeup scattered on the bathroom counter, placing it neatly back into her bag. He drags a chair onto the balcony when his order arrives and drinks his overpriced wine while he smokes. Music plays softly from his phone, and he watches all the lights in the buildings around them turn off and on. 
He can’t sleep without her, even after holding her pillow close to him and breathing in her scent. The jetlag is still lingering, the city lights are too bright, and he’s glad she’s having a good time, but he misses her when she’s not around. 
(He does not feel the same way when she falls through the door at 6 am and vomits in the entryway.) 
~~~ 
They had planned to go out for breakfast together, just the two of them, the morning after the bachelor and bachelorette parties, but looking back, he thinks it was awfully optimistic that they thought they wouldn’t be hungover. Instead, they sleep in, and he forces water down Brittany’s throat when she’s finally awake. She practically crawls into the bathroom when she wants to brush her teeth and shower, and he laughs to himself every time he hears her groan. 
It’s closer to dinnertime when she’s feeling well enough to leave the room, so they leave the hotel and head down to the beach. It’s like the water is some kind of miracle elixir because the moment she lets her body fall into the waves, she resurfaces with a sigh of relief, wiping the water off her face. 
“Thank you for taking care of me.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. 
He snorts, pulling her legs around his waist under the glittering water and moving them deeper into the ocean. “I didn’t really do anything.” 
It’s true. He put a bucket next to her side of the bed and rinsed out a hand towel to put over her forehead as she slept her hangover away. That's it. 
“I mean every day.” 
Her lips taste like the overpriced iced coffee she drank along their walk from the hotel. 
~~~ 
As soon as they step into the rehearsal dinner, one of the bridesmaids whisks Brittany away to help solve yet another crisis. She looks back apologetically as she’s rushed out of the room, and he smiles encouragingly at her. Despite what she thinks, he can handle himself in a crowd of strangers. In fact, he makes a living out of it. 
He finds Henry by the bar, sipping from a scotch glass and joins him. They make the typical small talk about how ridiculous it is that they need to “rehearse” their dinner and talk football for a bit. The guy used to live in Belgium when he was a teen, so there’s some common ground between them at least. When he asks what Matty does for a living, he struggles to answer without sounding like a prick. Britt thankfully appears, sliding her hand around his waist and stealing the wine glass from his hand, and the topic of conversation naturally changes. 
After they’ve eaten their meals and organized the order of who was speaking, the groomsmen and bridesmaids work with the celebrant on where to stand at the end of the altar, and Ravenna falls into the empty chair beside him. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be up there right now?” He points to the empty space next to Lucas using the hand that's holding his glass. 
“They’ll be fine for a minute.” She steals a bread roll from the basket in the middle of the table, tearing it into pieces and dipping it into the gravy pot on his plate. 
“How’re you feeling?” He asks. 
“I’ve never been more relaxed, actually,” Ravenna confesses after chewing thoughtfully. “Bridezilla over there on the other hand.” 
She points towards Brittany berating the professionalism of the venue manager. “Have fun with that.” 
Watching her passionately come to the defence of the waitstaff who’d been treated poorly, he honestly can’t wait. 
~~~ 
The morning of the wedding, Britt kisses him goodbye at the crack of dawn when he’s still got his eyes closed. She’s been up for a while; he listened while she turned on the shower and then made her first coffee of the day. When he spreads across to her side of the bed after he hears the hotel door click shut with her departure, he can feel the sheets are already cold. He’s frowning when he falls asleep again. 
Walking through the gardens the ceremony was being held in, he follows the rustic signs that were reminiscent of something out of Alice in Wonderland. He bumps into a few people he recognizes from the rehearsal dinner the night before, and he’s beginning to get tired of all the small talk. He still puts a smile on his face and pretends for a bit longer, though. 
Britt just makes all of this seem so easy all the time, and he wonders how she does it. She left everyone and everything behind to join them on tour and never looked back. He’s only had to be part of this circus for a few days, and he’s socially exhausted. He’d never tell her any of this though because he loves her and loves being her date, walking into the room with his hand on the small of her back and pulling out her chair for her. He loves boasting to strangers that his fiancé is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, the bride aside, and knowing that when Brittany’s eyes are searching across a room, she’s looking for him. 
Stepping into the clearing, there’s a string quartet playing covers of pop songs under a blossoming willow tree, and he watches them for a bit, clapping politely when they finish one song before launching into another. He can see the celebrant chatting with some of the guests milling around, and he finds his name on one of the wooden chairs that are lined up facing the end of the aisle. Underneath the folded cardstock is a small vial of confetti that is clearly labelled "to be thrown AFTER the vows have been exchanged" and a little note in Brittany’s loopy penmanship with one of their inside jokes. 
(It’s hardly a joke though, but he doesn’t know what else to call it. It’s something they share when they’ve been apart, a love declaration of sorts that they normally scribble onto loose scraps of paper hurriedly in the mornings before rushing out of the house, or smeared into the bathroom mirror when it was covered in steam still.) 
Pocketing it with a soft smile, he sits down when it's time to begin. 
Watching Brittany slowly walk down the carpeted aisle, making her way to the end, he thinks his heart might have stopped. Flashes of her in a white dress, making the same walk, spring to mind, and he knows how lucky he is. He thinks it every morning when he wakes up, but this is something else. The realization is dawning on him that every other love he felt before was meaningless; it was all a lesson to get to right here, to be worthy of her, to look at her, to be deserving enough of loving her. 
He knows that she’s been nervous about this part, everyone watching her as she walks, terrified that she’d trip over nothing and fall flat on her face. He promised he’d be there to catch her if she fell, and as she comes closer to him, he wishes that she’d look at him for just a second so he could see her face. Once again, though, Brittany Jackson is always a step ahead of him because not only does she lift her head so he can see her properly, but she also breaks formation, leaving the aisle and the other bridesmaids to rush over to him. She grabs his face, kissing him quickly to the amusement of all the other guests, delighted laughter and whistles sound, and he flushes with the attention, and just as quick as she came, she was gone again. 
He knows Ravenna walked down the aisle too, but he couldn’t look at anyone except his girl, standing at the altar, wearing a dress that fits her so well it's like water draped over her skin. Even if she wasn’t his, she’d have his attention all night long. Britt winks at him when he catches her eye, and the guy next to him passes him a tissue, telling him he has lipstick on his face with a smirk. 
~~~ 
He’s seriously loving this wedding. The food is incredible, the champagne is flowing, and he finally feels like he knows everyone at the bridal table enough that he can have real conversations and not surface-level bullshit about the weather. It helps that Britt is sitting by his side with her hand on his thigh and stealing the carrots off his plate with a guilty smile. He kisses her bare shoulder when she scoots her chair closer to him, and the room tinkle their cutlery against their glassware. He knows it's for the bride and groom, but how can he resist? 
There’s not a dry eye in the house, his included, when Brittany makes her speech. Lucas passes Ravenna a monogramed handkerchief with his initials when her mascara starts to run down her cheeks, and he laughs to himself when he can hear the other bridesmaids scrambling to find the tiny makeup bag for the bride. 
When everyone is watching the newlyweds have their first dance, his eyes on his fiancé, singing a Shania Twain ballad with the little band on the stage. It makes him think of another night, years ago, where she sang another Shania number that set his world alight. He thinks if his mind wasn’t so blurred with memories and the thought of her, he might be able to make something out of the symbolism of it all. 
Later, they laugh at the desperation from the single women trying to catch the bouquet as it’s thrown over the bride's head, and even though he’s been drinking all day, he doesn’t feel drunk. He swings Britt around the dancefloor until she’s squealing at him to stop, and then he dips her back low, waiting for the laugh to bubble out of her chest like it always does. 
It feels like the day is ending as quickly as it began because now Ravenna and Lucas are heading towards their car, and everyone is waving sparklers in the air. They blow kisses from the car, and Rav’s white dress takes over most of the passenger seat as she gets into the convertible. As they slowly start to pull away, Brittany’s hand slips into his and squeezes his fingers gently. Tears brim in her eyes, and they only fall when her best friend stands up in the moving car, waving her arm above her head in goodbye, not before shouting back one final word of departure. 
“Arrivederci!” She hollers down the gravelled driveway, and Brittany chokes out a laugh before calling back her response. 
“Au Revoir!” 
~~~ 
They’re back at their hotel room, she’s sitting on his lap in the chair he’d dragged outside while he had another cigarette, and they finished off the last of the champagne they’d stolen from behind the bar. The summer heat meant he was comfortable to sit in just his underwear, Britt wearing only his white button-up and her engagement ring while they looked over the skyline and listened to the sounds of the city below them. He doesn’t exactly know how they got onto their current topic of conversation, but it's been enlightening to say the least. 
“I think if I’d stayed with him, Michael would have probably proposed,” she admits with a scrunched-up look, disappointed in herself. 
He hums in agreement. “I think so too, especially after that night in Electric Lady.” 
“The night I wouldn’t kiss you?” 
He nods, exhaling through his nose and kissing her shoulder as it rested against his chest. Her feet are resting on the railing, ankles crossed over one another, and he can feel every breath she takes against his chest. Britt asks him about his last ex, the model he killed his nights with while he was trying to forget about her. 
“I don’t know. It never even crossed my mind once, to be honest.” He feels a little guilty about that, how he used people back then, and he tries not to think too hard about it because it makes his stomach twist. 
Britt snorts before sitting forward and picking up the champagne from the ground, beside the chair. When she rests against his chest again, he stubs out his cigarette on the wall and asks her what she found so funny. 
“It’s cute that you think I would’ve let you marry anyone else.” She sips from the neck of the bottle nonchalantly, and it’s not even bratty. She states it, like it's a fact.  
He takes the drink from her and dips his fingers between her bare legs. 
~~~ 
There's the farewell breakfast at some little hole-in-the-wall cafe in the city, and he thinks that even though Britt has loved the last few days, she seems pretty over the whole event, just as much as he is. The ends of her hair are still perfectly curled from the day before, despite how many times he ran his fingers through it. She puts barely any makeup on as she gets ready, too exhausted after their late night to do anything other than some face creams and brush her teeth. 
(He still thinks she'll be the most beautiful person in the room and wonders if other women ever become jealous of just how effortless it is for her.) 
She tiredly lays back on the unmade bed, watching him do up the final buttons on his shirt with a lazy smile, and he wonders how hard it would be to convince her to stay there for the day instead. Holding out her arms like a child after he’s done up his belt, she waits for him to pull her off the bed, groaning jokingly as she stands. She holds onto his shoulder as she adjusts the buckle at her ankle, and he gets a great view down the front of her dress as she bends over. 
"We're not going to do all this when we get married, right?" 
“Not if you don’t want to,” he replies, diplomatically. 
He’d been secretly hoping to have this conversation with her. He can’t wait to marry her, but only as long as it's not like this. It just seems like a lot of effort with very little payoff, and he’d love to do a big event, inviting everyone he knows, but at the end of the day, it's just a party. All he needs is to hear Brittany Jackson say “I do” opposite him at an altar somewhere and he’ll be good, but if she decides once her exhaustion from the last year wears off, that she wants to have the wedding of the year, he’ll give her whatever she asks for. 
“Maybe when we get home, we can start organizing it.” She stands on her heels, testing them out for a second before altering her statement. “Or we can hire someone else to do it for us.” 
Walking into the cafe, they seem to be the only ones who have fared well after the night before, despite their lack of sleep (and his back that keeps aching after the positions he’d put Britt into). Rav’s parents sit quietly, sipping their coffee with sunglasses on, and there are a few empty chairs that are supposed to be sitting the bridesmaids. Lucas looks like he might be sick when he tells them the bride escaped to the bathroom upon arrival and hasn’t been seen since. 
With a grin, Britt disappears to find her best friend, and Matty sits down to order them coffee and breakfast. Henry sends him a wink from across the table and slides a silver flask over, telling him it contained a “hangover cure”. Lucas audibly gags, and the table laughs. 
~~~ 
They’re supposed to be catching a flight home later that day, but when they’re packing their suitcases, he can sense some kind of apprehension from Britt, which surprises him. He knows that she doesn’t like coming back to Australia, let alone Melbourne. When she tells reporters about where she’s from, she doesn’t mention anything about the land down under; instead, she talks about their house in London and her apartment in New York. 
(That was a risky move on his behalf. Jack mentioned offhand one day that the apartment she’d sublet in Mr. Davis's building was for sale. It was a big part of her history, and he knows that she hated the place when she stayed there, but she looks back on those times with optimism, and he was nervous that someone might come along and destroy it, so he bought it. 
He wanted to give it to her as a Christmas present, but she found out anyway because he can’t hide anything from her. She’d stumbled across the email when he’d left his laptop open on the couch when he was playing Xbox and read almost the whole thing before he realized. She’d been mad at him for a couple of days for wasting so much money on a crumbling studio apartment, that he apparently had been ripped off on, but then they flew into the city to see it again. 
It wasn’t the first time she’d been back since she moved out, but it was his first time standing there with her. She’d noted how it felt smaller than when she’d lived there and groaned when she heard the dripping faucet in the kitchen/bathroom. The place had kind of become a money pit ever since, they’d sunk thousands into repairing the window and fixing the plumbing. They gutted the built-ins and replaced the shower curtain with a glass screen. There had been mold problems and damp issues and termites in the flooring. He dreads getting emails from the contractors now. 
He doesn’t regret it though because it’s hers, and it will be forever.) 
When she zips her bridesmaid's dress into the garment bag, hanging it on the hook by the door, she sighs again. 
“Baby,” she hums in quiet acknowledgment as she puts her shoes into her suitcase. “What's wrong?” 
“I don’t know.” She sighs again, and he waits for her to keep talking because he knows she will. “I think I feel unfinished here.” 
He tries to read between the lines. “Do you want to stay a bit longer with Rav? I can go back?” 
“No, I don’t want you to go.” She shakes her head, like it was a terrible thought that he’d sullied her with. “Rav is coming back to London next month anyway, so I’ll see her then.” 
He doesn’t know where to go from there then, and from the look of confusion on her face, he guesses Britt doesn’t either. 
“I don’t have anywhere to be for a couple of days, do you wanna stay anyway?” This seems to be a step in the right direction because her eyes light up. 
“Yeah?” she double-checks with him, searching for reassurance. 
“Yeah, we can just mess around here, go to the beach, and do whatever you want.” 
She smiles widely, stepping around their luggage and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. 
“I love you.” 
“I know.” 
“Hey,” she giggles, roughly pulling at his hair until he hisses. “Say it back.” 
“I fucking love you too,” He laughs, and she lets her iron grip go, kissing him again. 
After a day of deliberating about where to go and what to do, Brittany hires a car, and they pack up their hotel room. When he gets downstairs, he expects to see some kind of sedan, or maybe even some kind of sports car. He does not expect a land cruiser, that's so tall that Britt needs to physically jump out of the driver's side to be on the ground again, to be sitting by the lobby doors. 
He throws their bags into the back, laying the garment bags containing his suit and her dress on top and climbs into the passenger side because there is no way in hell he’ll be driving this fucking thing. There’s a cappuccino in one of the cup holders with a few packets of sugar spear along the dash, and he watches in amusement as Brittany climbs into the car. 
“Ready?” She pulls away from the hotel and heads towards the freeway, and he prays to a god that he doesn’t believe in that they don’t get into an accident. 
The plan is that there’s no plan. They drive with the windows down and the music loud as they disappear into the country, chasing the sun and following the coast. He rests his arm behind her head, rubbing the back of her neck as they wind around the bends, talking about nothing and everything for hours. They don’t have anywhere to be, no plans of where they’re going. He wanted to be close to the ocean, and she wanted to be close to him. 
When the temperature starts climbing, he unbuttons his shirt, and Britt peels hers off, driving in just her little cropped bralette and some denim cut-offs that she’s had forever. Freckles appear across her arms and shoulders as she drives, and he thinks she looks really fucking hot with her hair blowing in the wind with her Ray-Bans on. She looks like the kind of girl people write songs about, and he just really loves her. 
He loves that she slips right back into the Australian mannerisms as soon as she steps foot into the country, swearing every other word and saying the stupidest things he’s ever heard (seriously, what the fuck does “we’re not here to fuck spiders” even mean?). He loves that she gets disappointed every time they see a dead animal on the side of the road, letting out a sad “aww” with every carcass they pass, and he loves every time she fucks around with the radio, she’ll pause on a station that's playing a song that she thinks he might like, even if it's one he’s heard before. 
They stop in a little surf town for the afternoon. There’s a couple of nice hotels practically on the beach, and he books them a room while Britt goes straight into the water. He can see her through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as she kicks off her shoes and peels off her shorts, leaving her in just a pair of skimpy underwear, and she practically runs into the ocean, wading until she’s deep enough to dive under. 
“Sir?” The concierge is trying to gain his attention, and he struggles to regain his focus. 
After he’s dumped all their luggage in the room, he grabs a bottle of sunscreen from Britt’s bag and one of the stark white hotel towels and makes his way down onto the beach. She’s resting on her elbows with her face pointed towards the sun when he finds her, nipples hardened beneath her wet bralette, and her hair dripping onto the sand. She smiles when he drops beside her, looking at him like he’s something special. 
“Hi, baby,” she sing-songs, and he feels bashful as he kisses her. 
They go to a local bistro for dinner that's filled with city people escaping to the country for the weekend. They drink wine and eat seafood caught locally in the bay, then walk along the shore, holding their shoes in their hands at the end of the night. Britt tells him that they’re too close to the city still, and she wants to find people that are more salt of the earth. He doesn’t know what that means exactly, but they make plans to leave in the morning. 
~~~ 
They spend the next few days playing paper, scissors, rock to decide which highway they’d take and getting lost along the dirt roads. Some days, they're in areas that are so remote that they only have reception on their phones when they stand on top of the car. He’s kind of loving it, and he knows Britt is too because the further they move away from the city, the more relaxed she becomes. 
He becomes obsessed with the assorted fruits being sold at every rest stop, wanting to pull over every time he sees a new vendor and spending way too much money on fresh strawberries and watermelon. Britt rolls her eyes, but she always reaches into the little paper bag for more cherries when he gets them, throwing the pits out of the window. 
At night, when they're exhausted from running around the beach all day or from driving, (or from screwing each other), they watch whatever film is playing on the crappy hotel room television. In their tired delirium, they both agree that the latest Adam Sandler movie is the funniest thing they've ever seen and make plans to show their friends when they get home. 
(A year later, after hyping it up to the boys, he finally watches it again since his trip with Britt to Australia. It's not funny; it's terrible, and he realizes that maybe it was one of those things where it was only hilarious because of the girl lying on the bed next to him who couldn't contain her giggles.) 
~~~ 
They mess around in the little town they’re in, strolling in and out of the shops lining the main street. He buys a new pair of sunglasses from a surf store, and Britt gets a little silver ring with a turquoise stone for her pinky finger. The one and only pub seems to be bursting with people their age, looking for something to do at night. He watches Britt hustle a few guys they're talking to in a round of darts, and he chain-smokes outside while drinking house red wine. 
She occasionally drops into his lap with a new drink for him, depositing his empty glass onto the nearest surface, and steals a few drags of his cigarette. She still hates the taste, traumatized from bad habits at 16 years old, but she likes the way he looks at her afterward, like he wants to inhale her too, she says. 
~~~ 
He’s eating the last of their roadside peaches while watching the waves crash on the shore. Britt’s somewhere deep in the water, and occasionally he can see her arms as she paddles slowly. The sun is baking his skin, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds before they lurch open in panic as a siren sounds across the beach. Parents rush towards the water, yelling for their children, and he stands up, trying to find his fiancée with a racing heart and panic flooding his vision. 
She appears, helping a little boy stand after he’d fallen over in the shallow waves before he runs over to his family, and she tiredly falls into his arms as they sit down. She points to how far out she’d swam before hearing the alarm and how quickly she’d had to paddle back to the shore. 
“This isn’t helping my ‘sharks aren't everywhere’ cause, is it?” she jokes. 
He’s not laughing. “It does not.” 
It turns out that the shark sighting was a false alarm, and everyone heads back into the water. He packs up their stuff, and he wants to go inland, away from the ocean and from creatures that could eat them whole. 
~~~ 
Britt has been rolling her shoulders for the last hour behind the wheel, adjusting her seat and sitting up straight. He knows she’s getting restless, but there isn’t another town for a few more hours, and they just passed the last rest stop. 
“Do you want me to drive?” 
She looks at him with raised brows. “You sure?” 
Looking around the deserted highway, there’s not another car in sight. He drove once, earlier on in their trip, but he kept getting flipped off when he drove the speed limit, much to Britt’s delight. He gives her shit for her driving when they’re home, but here in Australia, she’s clearly the better driver out of the two of them. 
“Yeah, pull over.” 
She glides the cruiser smoothly off the dirt road, leaves the engine on, and hops out of her seat. 
“Fancy meeting you here,” she quips. 
Her tongue is between her teeth in a cheeky grin, and he smacks her ass when they cross in front of the car. Adjusting the driver's seat when he sits down, he waits for Britt to climb inside so they can keep driving. The door is open, letting all the cold out as she stretches her arms above her head, her tiny tank top rising higher on her ribs. He can see the thin, pale lines leading behind her neck where her bikini straps would normally sit, and he realizes how tan she’s become in their time away. She’s practically golden. 
They cruise along for the rest of the afternoon, Britt’s feet resting on the dash, his hand on her thigh. Her toes are still perfectly painted black from the wedding, and she’s taken over the radio for once, a throwback playlist of early 2000’s classics playing. She’s skipped the last few songs, slow R&B jams that aren’t quite the vibe right now, but when she lets an old Enrique Iglesias song play, he accidentally lets out a disappointed groan. 
“What?” She laughs, bouncing her knees in time to the song. 
“Skip this one,” he prompts. 
“Nah uh,” she turns the volume up. “No way, this is the best song to come out of Latin America!” 
“Isn’t he Spanish?” He frowns. 
“Whatever,” she waves him off, continuing to dance with her shoulders. 
“’Whatever’?” he imitates her nonchalance with a smirk. “Cancelled!” 
She throws her head back with the largest laugh he’s ever heard from her, and the chorus starts back up again. She grabs his hand from her thigh, using his fist as a pretend microphone, and he has to tear his gaze away from her to make sure they haven’t run off the road yet. Britt climbs onto her knees in her seat, coming closer to him until she’s practically singing directly into his ear, and his face finally breaks into a smile. 
“You can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape my love!” 
He grabs the back of her head, smashing her lips against his, running his tongue over hers until they’re both breathless. She pulls away from him first, grabbing the steering wheel and directing them back into the correct lane with bright eyes. He finally sings along, and they listen to the song a few more times before she finally changes it. 
They didn’t bother going out for dinner that night, too lazy to bother with another pub meal, and opted to hit up the local supermarket that's more of a corner store. Britt picks out a couple of cheeses with a packet of crackers, because of course she does, and he buys another 6-pack of this craft brew that he discovered a few towns ago, and that he’s fallen in love with. They stay in a literal cabin in the woods. There are a few others on either side of them, but they never see anyone come or go from them. 
Lying together in the hammock hanging between two trees, he rests one foot on the ground and rocks them back and forth gently. Sipping from the glass bottle with one hand and playing with the curled strands of Britt’s hair with the other, he idly thinks it might be the longest he’s ever seen it and hopes she doesn’t cut it anytime soon. The stars are so bright in this part of the world, and they haven’t spoken in a while, but he knows she’s not asleep, just comfortable in the silence. 
She tilts her head back to watch a bird fly by, and her eyes are so green right now. He pulls lightly at her scalp, so she looks at him, and he presses his lips to hers softly. 
~~~ 
"Are you ever coming home?" 
Matty laughs at the text from his brother after he's sent another picture to the family group chat of their trip. He yawns heavily as he types out a response and looks toward the front door of their accommodation as it opens. Britt comes in, holding a plastic bag filled with God knows what and two coffee cups — hot for him, iced for her. 
"Did you see there’s a hike to a waterfall here?" 
He holds up the pamphlet he discovered, flipping the glossy page over and reading aloud a few lines about the picturesque lagoon. Britt laughs lightly, and he frowns until he sees what she pulls from the plastic bag — there are a few different packages of sports tape and a fabric brace for his knee. She throws them on his chest and tells him to get dressed with a grin. 
They get directions from the concierge, and he drives them as close as he can to the beginning of the trail. There are a few other cars at the base of the hike, and it's somewhat comforting that other people are around if they really get into trouble. The day is already warming up by the time they get going, and he's glad Britt had the forethought to throw a bottle of sunscreen into her little bag because he can already feel his skin roasting under the sun. 
The trees are dense, and all he can smell is eucalyptus as they walk. His knee is killing him, but he pushes through because every person they pass tells them how incredible it is, how it's unlike anything they've ever seen. There's a smug part of him that knows for the average person that this is probably true, but when you're in his line of business, he sees amazing things almost every day. 
He knows they're close when they can begin to hear the water crashing, and the air becomes damp. The trail opens as they come around a corner, and he feels his breath being taken when he sees the sight before him. It's like something straight from a movie — crystal clear water pouring into a plunge pool, surrounded by trees taller than he's ever seen. Birds sing melodically, and he cannot believe they ever found this place. 
"Fuck," Brittany gasps, squeezing his hand. Her jaw is dropped, and he'd repeat her sentiments if he could speak. 
As they step closer, the water crashing against the mossy rocks around the edge sprays them, and Britt doesn't even bother taking her clothes off, opting to fall into the cool water as quickly as possible. He watches as she sinks underneath for a moment before breaking through the surface again with a gasp. 
"Come on!" She calls out to him, flicking some water at him and swimming away. 
She doesn't need to ask him twice. 
He thinks he might have been Australian in another life with the way he's taken to the water during this trip. Britt smiles knowingly when he reminds her that he used to live in Melbourne too, and not for the first time, he wonders what it might have been like to know her when she was growing up. 
"You wouldn’t have given me the time of day back then," she accuses. "You were Mr. Popular Fight Club guy with famous parents." 
He scowls at the reminder, swimming over to the rock she was perched on. She was like a lizard with the way she followed the sun around the lagoon, going from one spot to another to stay within the rays. Her clothes were hanging from a nearby tree with her soaked shoes and a little bag. 
"I was the weirdo spending her weekends stalking her friends on MySpace and drinking in the park." 
He pokes her leg playfully, "you were one of those kids, huh?" 
"Oh, yeah," she laughs. "Big time." 
Watching as she twists her hair into a long braid that she throws over her shoulder, he doesn’t let go of her eye contact, even when a weird look crosses her face. 
"What's up?" He wraps his fingers around her ankle, trickling water along her warm skin. 
"Nothing," she looks around the area. "I have deja vu." 
"So, you’ve done this before." 
He doesn’t think much of it because déjà vu is kind of stupid. He gets it sometimes when he’s on tour, and the feeling normally makes his stomach sink enough that it makes him change the setlist the next night. The look that takes over Brittany’s face tells him that she isn’t feeling the same kind of melancholy that normally makes him feel like he’s choking. 
"I’ve been here with you before," she says quietly. "We were always meant to be." 
An "I told you so" sits ready on his tongue, but he drowns it out by pushing himself out of the water and kissing her. 
~~~ 
They walk from their cabin to a bar that's packed full of people since it's the weekend, and they drink their weight in alcohol. He plays pool with some lads he meets in the smoker's area, and Britt makes friends with some girls in the bathroom. He doesn’t see her for a bit but knows she’s on the dancefloor somewhere because the music keeps drastically changing from Top 40 tracks to old throwbacks, most notably the Enrique Iglesias song from the car. 
She comes outside to where he’s seated, chatting pure shite, with a few girls he’s never seen before. There’s a full drink in each of her hands, one clearly for him, and before he can even stand up to give her his chair, she’s already planted herself in his lap, the conversation continuing like nothing. He rests his cigarette against his lips as he takes his glass and she removes the stick from his mouth, putting it in her own as she talks. The guy next to him slides a packet across the table with a lighter and a knowing laugh. 
Eventually, everyone is introduced to one another, and they’re all buying each other rounds. There are inside jokes made, the banter flows, and he’s given a glimpse into what life might be like if they stayed there. He can overhear some other conversations happening around him, locals complaining that the bar is never usually as jam-packed as it was that evening, followed up with disbelieving comments about how "someone famous is here." 
"Dance with me?" 
Britt bites her lip and looks down at him with blown pupils. He can smell the tequila on her breath, and he smirks as he downs the last of his drink, leaving it on the table and pushing her off his lap. It’s almost like she timed it because the bass thumps as they step back inside, and the DJ spins a Daddy Yankee track he hasn’t heard in years. 
She looks completely free as she twists her body around, swinging her hair over her shoulder and raising her arms up to wrap around his shoulders. She doesn’t think she’s much of a dancer, but the tightening of his pants says otherwise. Her ass grinds into his hips, and she’s brazen with how she isn’t fazed with anyone watching them because they definitely are. The back of her head rests against his shoulder as his hands make their way across her bare stomach as they dance. Her skirt is slung low on her hips, but he still tucks a finger under the waistband, grazing the top of her underwear as he nips at her neck. 
A gasp leaves her throat, turning into a whine when he moves his hand away from where she wants him most and he laughs cruelly in her ear. He thinks she’d probably let him fuck her in the middle of the dancefloor right now if he asked and the look in her eye tells him she wants him to. A thin line of sweat has built along her collarbone, and he settles for making out with her like they’re teenagers until the song changes. 
~~~ 
He leaves her in bed the next morning, throwing the plain white sheet over her naked body and letting her sleep a little longer. Sitting on the small lounge on the back deck of their cabin, he has his first cigarette of the day and messes around on his phone. He feels tired, but the good kind — the kind where you’re not worn down to your bones, but more content and at peace than ever before. He types a couple of thoughts that might turn into song lyrics later in his notes app and inhales the nicotine sharply as he reads them over. 
The door slides open, and Brittany appears wearing his button up shirt from the night before and nothing else. She hasn’t even bothered to do it up, shamelessly leaving it undone and despite their current surroundings, she’s always been his favourite view. 
Planting a knee either side of his hips, she straddles his lap, and his hands fall to her thighs, careful not to singe her skin with the end of the cigarette. Her breath is minty when she slips her tongue into his mouth, and he wonders how long she’s been up for. 
“You didn’t wake me up,” she whispers between lazy, dizzying kisses. 
“You were tired,” he groans as her hand trails down his chest, nails scratching at his lower stomach, teasing the edge of his underwear. 
“Wake me up then.”  
Her hand dips under the elastic and grasps him firmly. He literally feels himself become breathless as she works him over, using her thumb over the tip and pumping him until he’s solid under her fingers. Her nipples are hard against his chest, and she sucks at the skin beneath his ear. Flicking the butt of the cigarette off the deck, he pushes the collar of her shirt off her shoulders and practically attacks all the newly exposed skin. He can’t move fast enough to touch her anywhere and everywhere and when he feels her trying to tug down the material at his waist, he lifts his hips. 
When she sinks down on him, he honestly thinks he might pass out. She’s so wet and warm and perfect for him. He sits up more, pushing the hair off her face and pulling her down harder on his length until they both groan. Her hips roll like waves in the ocean, pulling sounds from the back of his throat as she rides him, taking him so deep that his eyes roll back into his head. 
“Fuck,” he gasps against her neck, biting at the flesh in front of him. “Just like that.” 
She looks more and more dishevelled as she slides up and down, her hair messy from his hands and her skin red from the stubble on his face because he hasn’t shaved in a few days. Her eyes close and her mouth drops open when he sharply thrusts up as she sinks down, and she has to clutch the back of the lounge so she doesn’t fall. 
He drags a thumb over her clit, and she jolts with a breathless whine of his name as he circles the bud over and over. His other hand gropes at her bare breasts, pulling at her nipples with practised ease and the sounds of birds singing their early morning song reminds him of their surroundings. He feels himself growing impossibly harder as he realises how exposed they are, and she cries out as he pushes in again. There are no privacy screens or walls blocking the neighbours view of Brittany Jackson going to town on him. 
Her thighs are becoming sticky with her slick and he knows that she’s close, but he wants this moment to last forever, wants to fuck her until she’s dumb and drooling. Holding her hips, he pistons his cock in and out of her pussy, the sounds of nature drowned out by the sound of their slapping skin and Britt’s needy cries. He’s got the perfect view of her tits bouncing in front of his face and she’s throbbing around him, her walls squeezing him tightly as she hurtles closer to the edge. 
“Matty,” she cries, tears falling down her cheeks, gasping for breath. “I’m-” 
“I know,” he soothes, snapping his hips faster. 
Letting her hips go, he grabs her ass in one hand and applies pressure to her clit with the other. She topples over the edge almost instantly, and he spills into her with hot, sticky bursts when her walls clamp around him like a vice. Her hips keep rolling as the waves crash over them and his vision is slow to clear. Britt’s tongue is in his mouth when he can finally see, gliding over his expertly as she lifts herself enough for him to slip out. He indulges in running his hands over her soft skin, feeling her curves and taking in the sight that is her completely undone by him. 
“What are you looking at?” Her eyes are so green right now, like the trees surrounding them, and he doesn’t know why she asks these stupid questions because the answer has never changed in the time he’s known her. 
“You.” 
~~~ 
He stops the car at a crossroads and turns in his seat to play their usual game of paper, scissors, rock, but Britt is deep in thought. 
“Hey,” he gets her attention, and she smiles at him. “What are you thinking?” 
“I’m thinking that maybe it's time to go home?” She’s cautious with her answer, like she’s still unsure and might change her mind. 
“We can do whatever we want to do,” he reminds her. 
There’s no tour or interviews awaiting them. He knows the boys are enjoying the time off, visiting friends and family they haven’t seen in a while. Carly has made it more than clear that she loves having Adam around more to help take care of Baby Hann. Ross has been looking after Mayhem and Annie, and despite some panicked texts he’d received earlier about some chewed shoes and scratches in the sofa, they seem to be doing okay as well. They sit quietly, the car rumbling beneath their feet while she thinks. 
Eventually, they make their long-awaited return to London. They calculate how many miles they drove and try to remember all the towns they stopped in during one of the legs of the flight, using the photos on their phones to jog their memories. 
Paparazzi greet them in Heathrow, and they’re immediately plunged back into reality, with photos circulating online and articles trying to pinpoint where they’d disappeared to. It's only when a TikTok of them grinding on the dancefloor of a rural bar somewhere in Australia drops online that anyone has a clue. 
Whenever he hears "Escape" by Enrique Iglesias, he can taste salty sea air and feel the sun on his skin, even in the dead of winter in Cheshire. 
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